I Didn't Ask For This (But I'm Going to Abuse it Anyway)
by Whitedrago
Summary: Harry is killed and sent back to do things a bit better. With his power still in tact from his previous life, how will Harry's life change? This fic will go places that others haven't before so be prepared for anything. Currently in first year. Weasley, Dumbledore, Hermione, and others bashing. Rated M for language, violence, and mentions of adult themes. My first fanfiction.
1. Chapter 1: The End is Only the Beginning

Chapter 1: The End is only the Beginning

Harry walked towards what he knew was his end. It was almost amusing to think that after so many years of trying to survive Voldemort's attempts at murder he was voluntarily strolling to his doom. He knew he had to though. Snape's memories told him as much. If Dumbledore himself believed Harry needed to die in order to save the wizarding world then who was Harry to question such an action.

He thought back on his final moments with loved ones gifted to him by the Resurrection Stone. Through his life he had longed to be able to talk to his parents. To feel their love. He finally had that opportunity… and he would be joining them soon. He didn't feel happy about it like he thought he would, nor did he feel sad about it like was expected. He just felt acceptance.

He heard Voldemort talking to his death eaters in the forest and paused in his movements. It was time. He knew it was. But for some reason, walking towards that monster seemed to be the wrong thing to do. None-the-less he stepped forward alerting his eternal enemy of his presence.

Voldemort let out a dark chuckle at the predictability of his opponent. Harry simply let his arms fall to his side with his palms up. He felt the light breeze through the trees. He heard the leaves rustling, whispering secrets that only they could understand. He closed his eyes and zoned out. The final moments of his life were a blur, even with his eyes closed. He knew Voldemort was probably giving some final speech of victory to his death eaters. It may have been amusing for Harry to listen to due to the amount of times Voldemort bragged only to fail. But he knew this time Voldemort wasn't going to fail. Harry was going to die. Then he heard 6 syllables that would kill him quickly.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

And he died.

Anger. Happiness. Enclosed. Free. Hate. Love. A whirlwind of pain and serenity coursed through his body for eternity and, at the same time, for only a second. He was falling and flying through a color that was a mixture of black and white, but wasn't gray. It was confusing and it made no sense. There was no explanation for it. It simply was.

He hit the ground. At least, he thought it was the ground. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore. His body ached and he let himself go to the pain he felt, letting his body go limp in his prone state. He wore nothing, but didn't feel bare. He was in a room of nothing. The floor of white that he stood on went on for ages in front of him. There was no roof. When he looked to his right and then his left he saw similar things. Curious, he spun around to see if what was behind him was the same. It wasn't. And he fell back down onto his butt.

Behind him stood a woman… or a man. It was hard to tell. The top of the beings head had hair and then a slight forehead. But that was all that was normal. The skin wrapped around the beings body in a swirl like a vanilla and chocolate ice cream. The skin was the vanilla. And the chocolate was death. Or, at least, what Harry thought death would look like. Dead, decaying, black leather alternated with the pure skin. He was almost reminded of a dementor who had decided to replace its cloth cover with leather. It was disturbing to say the least.

The figure wore a smirk that showed amusement at the boy. "Hello Harry Potter," it said.

Harry liked to think he was brave. He was a Gryffindor. He had faced Voldemort, a basilisk, a werewolf, dementors, and many other evils and had lived through all of those experiences after all. But something about this moment made him scream in absolute fear.

"You know," the figure began, "I should be offended by the amount of times I've gotten that reaction. But in your case I think it is warranted. After all," The smile fell into a snarl, "You threw away your destiny like it was one of the galleons in your vault."

Harry scooted himself backwards away from the source of his terror. "Wha-" was all he managed to get out of his mouth. Although, even that was a bit of a stretch. The sound was more a squeak of anxious confusion.

"You Harry Potter are a fool. An idiotic sheep who followed his shepherd to get its pelt removed. You got blindsided by a foolish, manipulative old man who thought he was a master of fate. You fell for the greed of the weasels who only wanted you for your money. You felt sorrow for the sob story that was never true. You let a naïve bookworm guide your path. You are a moron Harry Potter."

Harry spluttered. And then he roared in anger. "You can insult me all you want, but I will not let you insult my friends, nor speak ill of the courageous dead, no matter who you are!"

The figure laughed. Neither pleasant nor horrid, the sound carried into Harry's ears enraging him even more. It laughed and laughed with no explanation for its actions. Harry stood up furiously.

"Who do you think you are you bitch."

"Oooh, how… clever. I've never been called that one before," the figure spoke in a mocking sarcastic tone. "Who am I? You won't let me speak of the dead? Oh this is a riot. I, Harry," It sauntered up to him and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I am known by many names, none of which are correct. I am the matriarch of the universe. The one certainty of all beings. The controller of fate. Maker of the Deathly Hallows."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he remembered the situation that led to his arrival in this strange place. As he realized exactly who he was speaking to.

 _She_ paced walking back and forth, eventually turning her back on him."Yes, Harry, I am death. Or Fate if you prefer – I don't really care what you call me, it has no consequence. After all," she whipped her body around to face him once more and released a feral grin, "you are nothing, nothing but a toy for me. A dysfunctional one at that."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but with a wave of her hand he was cut off, no longer able to talk. He tried for a few futile minutes to get out a sound before settling down with a scowl.

Fate merely smirked. "Are you done now?" She asked.

All Harry could do was nod. He was completely over powered and at her disposal. He was nothing.

"Good," Fate began. "Now let me tell you what you did wrong. Actually," she paused and put a finger to her chin, "let me preface and then you tell me what you did wrong. Okay! Now then, you are a kid who is underfed, mistreated, and beaten by your _guardians_ ,"she sneered out the words. "One day you accidentally turn your teachers hair blue. True, this first event may have been excusable being as it could be a strange coincidence, but after teleporting onto a roof, surely something was going on, yes?" Harry scowled, but nodded. "Okay then," she waved her hand releasing Harry's voice. "Now tell me what you should've done."

"I should've explored the powers I had?" he question his answer and Fate scowled.

"I guess that's part of it, but there is so much more. You should have explored those powers, yes, but you also should've learned from them. You should have thought 'Hey! What else can I do?'. And then, with that knowledge you should have left the Dursleys and let your magic guide you to where you truly belonged, in the wizarding world. I suppose I can let you off the hook for that one. After all, you were abused and dissuaded from anything related to magic. So we'll go to your first year. To begin with, we'll start with the letters for Hogwarts. Now these letters are addressed to a Mr. Harry Potter who lives in the cupboard under the stairs. Strike one! Additionally, after years of being denied anything for yourself from the Dursleys you openly looked at your letter where they could clearly see that the letter was addressed to you and steal it from you. You idiot! Strike two. And then, after being sent hundreds of letters it didn't once occur to you to stuff one under your shirt or in your trousers?" Harry sheepishly shook his head, shocked. How had he been so foolish? Fate spoke again after a pause. "Now, tell me what you should've done this time."

Harry paused before answering, thinking carefully. After being told he was only partially right the last time he wanted to be sure that he got this one right. Finally, he came to a decision. "I should've hidden my letter in my cupboard under the stairs before giving the rest of the mail to the Dursleys and then read it the next time I was locked in the cupboard."

"And what about the address put on the letter?"

Harry was confused. "What about it?"

"It was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs. I repeat, it was addressed to _the cupboard underneath the stairs_. No red flags?"

Harry fell to his knees in shock. "But- but surely Mcgonagall wouldn't have left me if she knew." Fate nodded in affirmation to Harry's previous statement.

"True, if she knew she would not have left you. But she didn't send the letter. Your letter was a special case."

Harry paused and thought as hard as he could. Who else could've sent his letter. He thought of Lucius Malfoy's position on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, but quickly discarded that idea. The elder Malfoy was far more cunning than the younger and surely would've used that knowledge to his advantage instead of just sitting on it. And since he knew that Malfoy ruled the Board of Governors by blackmail he knew that no one else on the board could've done it. And there was no reason at all for a sentient Hogwarts to send him and only him a Hogwarts letter. The only other person who would've had the authority was—" his eyes widened in shock.

"I see you understand. Dumbledore sent you the letter. In case you don't believe me, think about who sent Hagrid to collect you from the Dursleys." Harry's eyes filled with tears. His previous beliefs came crumbling down.

He tried to say "but why?", but all that came out was "wergh".

"Why? Because Dumbledolt was a manipulative fool who didn't know his place in the world. Now that you have seen the biggest mistake you made, let me glaze over the many other mistakes you made." Fate took a deep breath in order to get out all of the information she wanted to as quickly as possible. Granted, she didn't need to breathe, but it was best not to disturb Harry anymore than she already planned to.

"Year 1: You go to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, who is not at all certified to take care of youngsters and has only the educational knowledge of a third year. Further, he is piss drunk. Now, he openly reveals that you are Harry Potter in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron. Queue the many witches and wizards swarming Harry Potter, making him wonder how he became famous.

After being swarmed, Hagrid brings you to Gringotts and installs wizarding prejudices into you about the goblins. He also bad-mouths Slytherins. Both of them could've been a great ally you know. Especially with that abomination in your head. And with explaining your legacy. In Gringotts, Hagrid 'sneakily' gets the Philosophers Stone on the same visit as he brings you. And by 'sneakily' I mean the kind of subtlety that only a half-giant can use.

Anyways, we'll skim over how you only got yourself a shabby trunk, as minimal books and potions ingredients as possible, and shabby clothes. Let's go to the incident in Ollivanders. The same core of the wand of Voldemort? C'mon notice a scam kid. Sure it matched the fragment in your head, but it didn't match you. If you had been paying attention you would have noticed part of your magic rejecting that wand. I'll give you a bit of knowledge for next time. There was no wand that matched you in Ollivanders. You needed a custom made wand. A wand that could be upgrade to fit you as you progressed through life.

To end the trip, Hagrid buys you Hedwig. Nothing wrong with this, at least nothing a first year could know about. In actuality Dumbledore put a tracking charm on Hedwig as well as a confudus in order to confiscate any mail that he didn't want to be sent or received. Finally finished shopping, he sends you back to the Dursleys who he now knows to be abusive. Not only does he know they're abusive, but he also hexed their prized baby whale making them particularly angry over the whole magic thing. All of these mistakes in one shopping trip. Now onto the Hogwarts journey."

Harry was groaning on his back over his foolishness. The truth truly was painful. It was like a knife stabbed into his heart, being twisted with every word. He had a couple of questions from Fate's words, but figured it was best to let her finish her rant before asking them.

"Hagrid tells you to go to platform 9 ¾ without any further information. Because of this poor little Harry Potter is forced to wander through Kings Cross Station without a clue of where he is headed. You walked straight into a trap. What were the words again? Ah yes, ' **-packed with muggles of course-** 'and ' **Now what's the platform number' (taken directly from HP-PS)**. Did you think you were part of a story with convenient moments for the protagonist for the sake of pushing the plot? Molly Weasley has been to platform 9 ¾ countless times, Harry. There is absolutely no way she could've forgotten what the platform number was. Now that, in combination with the comment about muggles, blatantly broke the Statue of Secrecy and gave you a family to trust. A family that blindly followed Dumbledore. Let's not talk about the love potions Molly and Ginerva Weasley fed you.

Anyways, now on the train a kid from the same family is stuck joining your compartment because everywhere else on the _magical train_ was full. No wonder you needed glasses this go around, you really were blind. Ronald proceeds to bad mouth any and all Slytherins just like Hagrid did. And you blindly ate it up. Draco Malfoy comes to your apartment and offers to teach you pureblood etiquette. Sure, he was a snob about it, but it was a good offer. By denying shaking his hand you committed political suicide and were extremely rude.

Your next incident came with the sorting. While I do believe that Gryffindor was the best place for you in the long run -strategically anyway-, you really did belong in Slytherin. But the badmouthing of Slytherins rubbed off on you and you chose Gryffindor.

Let's fast-forward to the troll incident. Recall how Quirrell fainted after announcing the troll that was not actually in the dungeons. In his exaggerated faint he fell backwards. The only reason for this to happen is if he was leaning backwards. However, he sprinted into the Great Hall which would've carried his momentum forwards. The faint was obviously fake. While I should reprimand you for going after Hermione without telling a professor, I won't because it should have been a smart move that would've gained you a good ally. Too bad Dumbledore later bribed her to spy on you." Harry swore at that revelation.

"Yes, yes you should be mad. Anyways there are only two more big mistakes that you made that year. The first was the duel with Draco Malfoy. As the challenged, you had the right to determine the time and the place. With that you could have gotten a huge political advantage, a few favors, or money. Instead, you let him lead you into a trap.

Finally, the whole Philosopher's Stone incident. Every one of those traps meant to guard the stone were easily bypassed by 3 first years. Obstacle 1: Fluffy. Hagrid reveals that his Cerberus falls asleep when music is played. Obstacle 2: Devil's Snare. Lumos is one of the first spell a witch or wizard learns. Obstacle 3: Catch the Key. While that was a difficult enchantment performed by Professor Flitwick, it was not a difficult obstacle to pass; especially not for the youngest seeker in a century. Obstacle 4: The Giant Chess Board. Again an impressive bit of magic, but not difficult at all to get past. In fact, you could've just flown over it with a broom. Obstacle 5: The Troll. Honestly I have to give that one a troll for effort. 'The Golden 3' had already beaten a troll before. Obstacle 6: Logic. This one was the only good protection and it would really only take time to solve. It also conveniently made it so you were alone in facing Voldemort while Dumbledore _flew a broom_ to the Ministry of Magic. Obstacle 7: The Mirror of Erised. Pretty simple to solve to be honest as Quirrellmort showed you. It was also tailor made to test your character." Fate let out a deep breath. "Now then, any questions?"

Harry didn't hesitate for a second. "You said that the Goblins and Slytherins could've been good allies. How?"

Fate let out a sigh of exasperation. "The Slytherins would have been able to educate you in pureblood culture, something that would've helped out in the future. The Goblins would have made you aware of your legacy. They also have a particular aversion for horcruxes. Had you come to them they could've ritualistically removed the horcrux from your head allowing you to absorb the soul pieces magic and knowledge. They also would have given you the Lestrange Vault if you had revealed the existence of a horcrux within it… after taking some of it for their services and to pay a fine of course."

"Okay," Harry mumbled trying to absorb all of the knowledge he had just received. "Wait, what was that bit about helping me discover my legacy."

Fate growled out something that sounded like manipulative old coot. "You are the heir of the Potter legacy. That alone gave you access to vast amounts of knowledge, wealth, and political power. Further, the Potters were descendants of the Peverells. When you finally attained ownership of two of the Deathly Hallows you would have been named lord of the house. While all three hallows would've been nice, you only needed for magic to recognize your ownership of the majority of the Hallows and to trace your lineage back to the Peverells. Additionally, when you pulled Gryffindor's sword from the hat you gained lordship of the house of Gryffindor. This is because Gryffindor's final will stated that his lordship would be inherited by someone who was his descendant and was recognized as worthy by his sword. When you killed a class XXXXX creature, the basilisk, which you incidentally could have sold to the goblins and made armor and weapons out of, with the sword, you were recognized as worthy. Finally, you were Heir to the House of Black. As Sirius was unable to produce offspring after his stay in Azkaban, he named you his heir. You knew this, but not all that it entailed, something that was evident when you only utilized Kreature and Grimmauld Place. Needless to say, next time you will want to play nice with the goblins."

"That was my next question," Harry said confused. "What is this about 'next time'?"

"I would've thought that obvious Harry," Fate offered through a smirk of mischief. "You are going to get a redo."

"Oh. Okay… wait… NO YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!" Harry was furious. He was going to be denied the pleasure of being with his parents, Sirius, and Remus.

"Actually," Fate began, slightly annoyed, "I can."

"But why?" Harry sobbed.

"Do the words ' _and either must die at the hand of the other_ ' mean nothing to you?"

Harry yelled out an agonizing "FUCK! But, Dumbledore said—nevermind."

Fate laughed at that. To be honest, she believed Harry would be a lot more stubborn about this. Feeling that she should take advantage of the momentum she spoke up, "You realize that in a redo, while you wouldn't be able to have your parents, you would be allowed to have Sirius and Remus back."

Harry's heart started pumping hard. So hard, in fact, that he could feel the pulse in his temples and could almost hear it. Pain had never felt so good. But then he paused as he thought of something. "But why would you do this. Surely you would want to keep people dead… I mean you are literally death. Don't you want to keep your residents?"

Fate actually growled her answer. "I hate when people assume I'm a heartless bitch. I mean, I am, but it still isn't nice. Anyway, all the people who died last time will eventually die again. Voldemort, however, cannot die unless it is by your hand. Or if he chooses to accept his death, but I don't think either of us can see that happening." Harry shook his head. After making so many horcruxes there was no way Voldemort would ever accept death. Fate then explained why she wanted Harry to win instead of Riddle. "You, however, would accept your death. You would be willing to join your loved ones in my domain when the time comes. For that reason, it is imperative that you beat Voldemort.

Harry cried at the pain he was bound to experience once more in his life. He would have an advantage, yes, but there would still be so much pain. If he were allowed to die he could be at peace. He could be with his parents and have a family again. "Please don't make me" he cried. While he did want Sirius and Remus to live, he selfishly wanted the whole package which included his parents.

"I can't do that Harry." Fate put her hand on his shoulder in sympathy. Harry shivered at the feeling. After talking for so long, he had begun to think of Fate as a normal person. The death leather swirl brought him back to reality. "I can, however, give you any one boon… as long as it is reasonable. I can't have an overpowered wizard running the wizarding world who can resurrect the dead and kill people with a stare after all."

Harry let his shoulders slump in defeat. "If I am to be sent back," Harry said at last, "I want someone that will always be at my side. Who will always be loyal to me, that can protect me and can be protected by me. Someone to love me and be loved by me. My own eternal family member."

Fate let the cogs swirl as she thought about exactly what to give her resigned champion. "Your own eternal family member? I can do that, but not in the way you think. You will have Sirius and Remus and eventually others to fill that position anyway. No, I will give you what you want, but it will not be a person." She smiled as she saw Harry's confused look. Before he could ask for clarification she spoke again. "We went very off topic, but I think after explaining all of the mistakes in first year, you and your allies will be able to figure out the rest. Good luck Harry!" She smirked as she waved he hand and snapped he fingers.

"Wai—" Harry began before being cut off by a dizzying spiral of nothingness.

In a cupboard under the stairs a young boy was curled up in a corner. His only companions were 2 spiders and a frayed drawing that was falling off the wall. It was silent, just as the Dursleys wanted it to be. They were perfectly normal after all. Not the sort to be awake after hours. The boy up until this day had been beaten, malnourished, and abused. Up until this day. The 10 year old boy rolled onto his back. There were two more moments of silence, during which everything seemed to hold its breath. And then two green eyes sprung open, shining in the darkness of the cupboard. Harry was back.

 **A/N:** Hello, I am Whitedrago. This obviously isn't my real name, but it is what I go by on this site none-the-less. This is my first serious attempt at fanfiction and my first work on . That being said, I am sure it is riddled with errors and it is likely a bit awkward to read at times. Because of this I would really appreciate leaving reviews to tell me how to improve this story (criticisms are encouraged, flames are not). Any offers to beta would also be appreciated (though only in PMs). At this point I think I am headed in a Slytherin in Gryffindor direction. There is going to be bashing. Likely a lot of it. The paring, if there is any at all (I will try, but I have never written anything close to that) will be Harry/Daphne. Finally, I thinkI will often ask for fan suggestions to help guide the story. This is to avoid writers block which I have seen plague fanfiction writers all too much. The updates will likely be sporadic, at least until I get into a groove with writing. Anyways, this AN has gone on for far too long so… Toodles

~Whitedrago


	2. Chapter 2: He's Baack

Chapter 2: He's Baaaack

Harry shot up, hitting his head on the top of his cupboard. "That bitch," he mumbled, pissed off at what had just occurred. Suddenly, his vision was clouded and all he saw were 6 words:

 **Fuck you too. I'm always watching!**

He groaned. 'Just my luck,' he thought, 'Not only do I have to redo my life, but I also have a sassy ruler constantly looking over my shoulder.'

 **Your thoughts aren't safe either, Harry.**

 **And you have to go through puberty again too! HA!**

He banged his head on the wall. Maybe if he hit it hard enough he would die. Then he could strangle Fate and dance over her body… then again, she was death's manifestation, so it was rather unlikely strangling her would do anything.

Considering no more words popped up into his vision, Harry figured that Fate was done messing with him for now. He would cherish that gift at least. Upon thinking about how the silent darkness around him was a gift, he realized that Fate hadn't sent his gift. Damn it.

Harry slowly repositioned himself so that he was close up to the door that locked him away from freedom. He wanted to break free. He needed to. But he didn't have his wand. 'What to do? What to do?' He wondered. And then he remembered one of Fate's first problems with his previous life. He hadn't explored his magic enough. But he couldn't do magic without a wand… could he?

Harry thought back to his early childhood. Turning his teacher's hair blue, re-growing his own hair, apparating onto a roof when he was running from Dudley, freeing the snake, and committing other magic induced events. Remembering the snake event made Harry's brain hurt. Had he done it in the past or was it his alternate universe future? Were there alternate universes? Was another Harry wondering the same thing? He shook his head to clear it of such thoughts. He had a job to do.

Figuring there was no harm in trying; Harry put his hand where he knew the lock to be and focused. He visualized the lock turning, unlocking the door. Nothing happened. 'Okay…' he thought, 'What now?' His thoughts drifted back to the scenes of his major magical incidents. What did they have in common? Feeling. He needed emotion to use his magic wandlessly. He focused on the anger he felt over being sent back. How Fate had no right to return him to his hell. He snarled. And the lock broke. It didn't bend or snap in half. No, it shattered into dust. Not exactly what he was trying to do, but if it worked, it worked.

Harry slowly let the door open. He knew if he was caught there would be help to pay and so he didn't make a sound. He didn't even breathe until he got out of the house. Shutting the door behind him, Harry sighed in relief. Now, he just had to make his way to Diagon Alley. This part was tricky. He would've used the Knight Bus if he had a wand, but, without one, he only really had one option left - break into Mrs. Figgs' house and use her floo. It was a good thing that he had that whole break the lock thing down.

Feeling particularly vindictive, Harry put his hand on the Dursley's front door knob, a knob that had the lock integrated into it, and used his new knowledge to shatter it. Either they would need to buy a new one, or they would get robbed and still need to buy a new one. Harry hoped for the later. No one deserved it more.

Satisfied, he crept to Mrs. Figg's house. He reached up to touch his hand to the knob, but before he broke it, he paused. While he didn't exactly like Mrs. Figg, he didn't hate her either. Yes, she was Dumbledore's spy, but she wasn't exactly in it for the nefarious deeds. And being a squib, she didn't really have many job opportunities.

Harry made up his mind and headed into her backyard. The one thing he remembered most about Mrs. Figg was her love of cats. Half-kneazles, his mind corrected. Her love of kneazles and not cats actually worked in his favor because kneazles were larger than cats. He smirked as he walked up to her back door.

He almost had to thank the Dursleys for their mistreatment of him. After all, if he was fed well enough, his plan wouldn't have worked. He dropped to his knees and inspected the cat-flap installed in Mrs. Figgs' backdoor. It would be a tight fit, but he would make it. Harry wiggled his way through the hole and finally made it through. He let out a few tired pants from the effort he had to put into his squirming. He retracted his almost thanking of the Dursleys. Their mistreatment gave him absolutely no stamina at all.

Finally ready to make his way to the wizarding world, Harry snuck his way to the fireplace. Looking around for the floo powder took longer than he would have liked, but he inevitably found it. Who hid their floo in a cat travel bowl anyway?

His thoughts were interrupted by a light growl behind him. He jumped and dropped the bowl that he was stealing from. A clatter rang through Mrs. Figgs' house. Cursing, Harry quickly scooped some floo powder off the ground and whispered his destination. A flash of green flames lit up the house before all was dark again. At this point Mrs. Figg came down the stairs with a flashlight and saw the kneazle that had scared Harry sniffing at the fireplace where the intruder had made his escape. Seeing the kneazle surrounded by floo powder, Mrs. Figg made the only logical assumption.

"Oh Mr. Meowmeow. Look what you've done. How many times do I have to tell you not to touch the floo powder?" She asked as she lifted him up and brought him to her room, turning off the flashlight before closing her eyes and succumbing to sleep.

Harry stumbled his way out of the floo into an empty shop. The lights were out, but Harry, used to living in a cupboard, quickly regained his vision. The world was blurry. A moment of clarity over came Harry and he realized that, in his fear of being caught escaping, he had forgotten his glasses. A string of curses soon followed. Oh well, it was probably for the best. He could get new glasses that were actually right for him in the morning. Maybe he could even get some enchantments added to them.

Leaving the shop, bumping into something every now and again, Harry quickly realized that he wasn't in Diagon Alley. He had misspoken for the second time in his existence and ended up in Knockturn Alley. It wasn't too big of a deal because most people were asleep… and those who were awake didn't want to draw attention to themselves. But it was still annoying. He crept his way through the alley looking at store signs for anything that might be useful. A wand shop called Wands and Lore caught his eye and he made a mental note to revisit the place when he had an opportunity. After all, Fate did say that Ollivanders didn't have a wand for him.

Finally reaching Diagon Alley, Harry had an awkward realization. He had nowhere to stay. He couldn't go rent a room in the Leaky Cauldron because Tom, the owner of the pub, would ask him where his parents were, revealing his identity. While there were inns where Harry could stay in Knockturn Alley, he didn't like his chances of coming out unscathed. He couldn't sleep on the ground either because he would surely be discovered. No, he only had one option. And it was extremely risky.

He walked up to Gringotts trying to appear more confident than he actually felt. Two goblin guards noticed his approach and, in mumbled gobbledegook, made bets on how easily the human would be scared away. Neither would win the bet.

Arriving at the steps Harry raised his hands in surrender to the armed goblins. He didn't want to give them a reason to harm him after all. Finally reaching the top, he spoke. "Greetings. May your gold flow like the blood of your enemies," he said startling the goblins. "I have come to you for an exchange that is even more valuable than the galleons you guard."

The goblins, still off guard because of the proper greeting, couldn't properly form a snarky response to make the wizard retreat. One eventually spoke. "And what would a young whelp like you have that Gringotts would be interested in. Especially when you consider that we are closed for the night."

At that moment Harry made his gamble throwing all he had into one bid. "Secrets. Tell me… what do you know about horcruxes?"

The goblins snarled and one stepped forward with a sharp axe at the ready. "Where have you heard of such an abomination wizard, and tell me why I shouldn't behead you where you stand."

"Well let's answer the beheading but first," Harry said in a voice he hoped wasn't filled with panic, "One, it would not be profitable to end the line of Potter, Peverell, Gryffindor, and Black. Two, you would never discover how I know of soul anchors. And three, the wizarding world would riot if they knew you killed the boy-who-lived." He winked at the goblins with the last one. The first reason had them shocked and suspicious over such a wealthy client, the second had them snarling, and the third intrigued them. The wink made them angry, but curiosity and greed were stronger in the minds of the goblins. "As for the whole 'wheredja here that' mumbo jumbo, I will only answer that if you grant me a room for the night. I promise it'll be worth your while."

"And why should we shelter a wizard in our esteemed halls. Surely you can sleep with your own kind."

"My own kind is full of fools who will ruin my plans. I will say no more until I am granted a room."

The goblins whispered to each other. Their heated whispers didn't really hide the words from Harry's ears but he entertained them. If they thought he couldn't hear them, well that was their fault. They finally came to a decision. "Wait here human. This is not our decision to make." One of the guards headed inside while the other stayed on duty.

Harry nodded and walked to the base of the steps. Stretching and releasing a yawn, he sat down on the first step and waited for them to ask their leader about his requests. He knew he had them, though. Their whispers had said as much. If goblins were anything, they were greedy, and Harry had both wealth and knowledge that they wanted.

He waited. And he waited. At this point he knew they were messing with him. Or they were testing him to see his reaction. He gave none. After what felt like ages of waiting, the front doors swung open and the guard came out, back to his post. A third goblin emerged. This one was armed to the bone, wearing armor that had runes carved into it and a sword that had a sphere of blood in its hilt. This, Harry knew, could fuel some rather nasty runes that were embedded in the weapon. Clearly they weren't taking any chances here.

"Come," the goblin said in a deep raspy voice. He turned around and headed back into the bank without waiting for a reply. And so Harry did the only logical thing and went inside.

Gringotts looked different at night, while it was intimidating during the day; it was downright horrifying at night. The shadows seemed to move and the only light was from torches that were spread far too far apart for Harry's taste. Their footsteps echoed through the bank, announcing their location to all who cared to listen. But he trooped on. He would not show fear.

The goblin led him to a cart and stepped inside. As soon as Harry was in the cart too, he pulled a lever, not even waiting for Harry to take a seat. Harry's fall onto his bum was painful, though he would not let the goblin know that. He couldn't give them anything to use against him. While Fate had told him that they would be a great ally, Harry did not wish to take any chances in the event that things went south.

The ride was nauseating with extremely sharp twists and turns and ridiculously steep drops. Harry was glad that he had been a seeker in his past life. While he was out of practice due to his horcrux hunt, he never did lose his knowledge of what a sharp drop felt like when chasing the golden snitch. This and this alone allowed him to keep the contents of his stomach. He was sure the goblin steering the cart wouldn't appreciate vomit being spewed all over him. Finally, the cart lurched to a stop, slamming Harry into his seat because if how sudden it was.

"Come," the goblin said again. Now that Harry thought about it, the goblin had only said 'come' earlier too. Was that the only word he knew? That would be pretty funny, though extremely unlikely. Harry's mind filled with images of miming out words to have a conversation with the goblin. He changed his mind about the lingual difference being funny. It would be far too time consuming and annoying to deal with.

The two walked a long distance through a maze that was surely full of traps on every wrong turn. And then they arrived at an extremely decorated door. Covered in enough jewels to buy Draco Malfoy twice over, the door sparkled, almost seeming to have a life of its own. Harry marveled at the sight wondering what riches lay beyond the threshold. The goblin guide cut its hand on one particularly sharp ruby and rubbed his blood in a pattern on the door. Slowly, the door creaked open. Inside, 20 guards stood in 2 lines facing a walkway that led to a throne. In that throne sat a goblin.

The goblin had nothing but a sword and some clothes. It was kind of anticlimactic really. Harry had been expecting some grand figure dressed in extravagant armor with dragons sitting on both sides of the throne. None-the-less, Harry believed that this goblin was some kind of royalty, Harry walked up towards the throne. 5 feet away he stopped and took a knee. "Greetings, my lord, may your enemy's blood fuel your fountains of gold."

The hall went silent, waiting to see the king's reaction. They dared not make a peep in fear of going against their king's belief. The king sat stoic and stared at Harry, judging him like he was some sort of dog in a dog show. Slowly, he stood up and walked towards Harry. Harry was circled once before the goblin's sword was pointed at his throat. He could see his reflection in the sword's sharp blade. "Speak. Speak and I, King Ragnok III, will grant you what you want.

Harry gulped. His palms were sweaty and he really had to go to the bathroom. It had been neat 12 hours since he had last gone. He stopped himself from thinking further on his urge. "Greetings, King Ragnok. I hope I find you in a time of victorious profit. I have come seeking aid and shelter in exchange for information."

"And this information is…?"

"Do you have a goblin healer on hand? I think you would find a scan of my current health status to be most interesting."

Ragnok snapped his fingers and a small goblin came running in from a room to the left of the throne. "Scan him," he ordered. The goblin rushed forwards and withdrew a piece of parchment from a hidden pocket. Before Harry could react, a finger lashed out, the nails digging into his arm, drawing blood. He hissed in pain, but otherwise remained silent. Dragging, its blood soaked finger on the parchment before withdrawing the finger, the goblin waited. The blood seemed to pause for a moment before sucking its way into a central point where it slowly faded into the paper. And then it came out again, spidering its way along, forming words in a slanted crawl describing his health.

All it took was a minute before the writing stopped. The goblin looked at the paper and gasped in shock. The gasp was high pitched and Harry began to wonder if the goblin was a girl. It was kind of hard to tell based on looks and Harry wasn't stupid enough, nor brave enough, to ask. Seeing her (?) reaction, Ragnok barked out a question. "What is it?"

"Sir… I think you need to see this yourself. She hastily brought the parchment up to the King before retreating back to the room she came from. Ragnok took one look at the writing before letting out a ridiculous amount of explicates.

"Human! Come with me." Ragnok stormed into what Harry believed was the room of healers. Harry shot up and followed him. He knew the king wasn't really mad at him, but it was best not to test the limits and give the angry goblin a target to lash out at.

The room was bare except for a couple of beds, a table, and ritual center. Everything was pure white with the exception of the ritual center that held tubes of blood to form its shape. The shape was that of a circle. It was perfectly round and at every 90 degrees a line made its way inward to meet another, smaller circle. Runes were cut meticulously into the floor and Harry couldn't imagine how much time it would take to replicate such a circle. He knew he would spend that time anyway. Considering the circle was the only one in the room, it was lsogical to believe that it was an all purpose ritual of healing. Harry believed that such a ritual was far too useful to not have at his disposal. Overall, the room made Harry feel isolated. He never liked hospitals, he found them boring and far too clean, but this one took the cake for most disturbing… at least in Harry's mind.

Ragnok was pacing a restless pace between the two beds, turning around when he reached the foot of one before heading to the other. Finally, he stopped and looked at Harry. "I take it, based on what was relayed to me of your conversation with Riptooth and Snagglefang, that you knew of the monstrosity embedded inside of you."

In any other scenario Harry would've given a more respectable answer. But this was not any other scenario. He was nervous. His brain was no longer functioning at its full potential. And so he said, "Yep," wincing even as he said it.

It appeared that Ragnok didn't mind his casual answer. Either that or he was too furious to care. "And how do you know this?"

"Errrr… that is a rather difficult question to answer," Harry said before words appeared in front of him. To him it read:

 _ **etaF fo noipmahc eht si eh esuaceB**_

But that was only because the message wasn't facing him. It was facing Ragnok. And Ragnok was shocked. "What… How?"

"It's actually a long story really," Harry smiled a fake smile and rubbed his hand up the back of his hair. "You see… I decided to walk to my death in 1998 because Snape's memory of Dumbledore said I had to in order for everyone to live. So then Voldemort shoots an AK at me and I die. But then I wake up and this creepy looking woman tells me she's fate and rants at me about how stupid I am and how much I fucked up and then she's like 'you need to go back' and I'm like 'I don't wanna' and she's like 'tough shit' and I'm like 'you can't make me' and she's like watch me and poof I'm ten again." All of this came out of Harry in one breath, the words stringing together, not always distinguishable between one another.

Ragnok just stared at Harry. And he stared. Then, he laughed. It was a creepy laugh, but it was a laugh all the same. "Well then… white I find it hard to believe that a higher being sent you back, I can think of no other way for such words to appear in a magic nullification room." He looked at Harry and then back to the words. "Gringotts is hardly willing to stand in the way of Fate, lest we be smitten down by her anger." Her paused before once more looking towards Harry, who at the moment wore a dumbfounded expression on his face. Come on then, strip and go into the ritual circle." He thought for a few seconds before walking to a door, opening it, and yelling out: "Ripnose, Hardfist, Terrorclaw, Wringneck, Bob, Heavyhead and Sharphammer! Come. We must rid this world of the vilest act of evil.

Harry just stared at Ragnok like he had grown a third head. He was so shocked and confused that he skipped right over the second one. Really… who named a goblin Bob. His stare was redirected when a door flung open and the healer who read his health status charged in, accompanied by 6 other goblins. They were dressed in strange clothing and had stripes of crimson beneathe their eyes. Harry hoped it wasn't blood.

Ragnok looked back to Harry and noticed his state of undress or lack-there-of. He raised an eyebrow and spoke. "What are you waiting for human?" Ragnok questioned. "I said strip." His voice carried no room for anything but obedience and Harry, too numb from shock to do anything, but follow those orders, did as he was told. He walked in a daze into the center of the circle and felt himself lie down on the floor. Shackles materialized, wrapping around his arms, legs, and neck. They moved keeping his neck straight, while guiding his arms to face his left and right, and his legs to be directly beneath him. His palms were facing the ceiling and two cuffs sprung out and locked them in place as well. While his head faced north, his legs faced south, and his arms pointed east and west.

The healers scampered about, preparing the ritual to rid Harry of his burden. First, they lay four animals at each of the cardinal points. Chains appeared to hold each animal in place. They then rushed towards him. In his right hand they sprinkled the ash from a phoenix's first burning day and in his left they weaved a thestral hair between his fingers. His legs were coated in a twine of unicorn hair and strips of a dementor's cloak. One goblin then rushed out of the room and returned with a bucket of phoenix tears. Harry wondered how they had gotten so much as he was drenched in the tears of healing. Finally, four of the goblins rushed to the animals and pulled out wicked looking ritual knives. They stood just outside the circle. Another goblin approached his head. The final two goblins approached his core, one by his chest and another by his groin.

"Do not worry Lord Potter. This will hurt a lot." Those words were all he heard before the chanting began and pure agony overcame him. His mouth opened in a soundness scream as words of purification overtook his body, mind, and soul.

The chanting stopped for a moment before being picked up again by the four goblins by the animals. "There is no freedom without sacrifice. You must learn to lose life before truly having one yourself. Take these bodies as your lesson." A knife was plunged into each animal when the final word was spoken.

The goblin by his head took over the chanting. "The head, home of the mind, the source of wisdom. Let your knowledge free you." The words were repeated 2 times before knife was stabbed into his head.

Now, it was the goblin by groin began its chant. "The pelvis, location of the seeds that make the body. Let your body be born anew." The chant was repeated 3 times before a knife delved into his crotch.

The goblin by his head took over the chanting. "The head, home of the mind, the source of wisdom. Let your knowledge free you." The words were repeated 2 times before knife was stabbed into his head.

With one more goblin left, it was time for the souls to be separated. "The heart is the soul's sacred ground. Let your soul be your own once more." Only once were these words spoken by the goblin at his chest before a knife was buried into Harry's heart.

A black mist rose from Harry's scar and he stopped breathing. As the mist rose a human-like figure appeared inside it. The goblins all united in their chanting once more. This time, they chanted in gobbledegook and every time they repeated the phrase, they increased their speed and the volume of their chant.

From the homunculus figure a gray stream flowed twisting and twirling before making its way into Harry's mouth. The power of the soul fragment was being separated from the soul itself and being absorbed into Harry's own core. Finally, when the flow of power ceased to be, the figure exploded inwardly letting out an ear-splitting screech. Mist shot out of the center and covered the walls of white before hidden runes glowed blue and the darkness was absorbed. The soul fragment had been destroyed.

A gasp of breath came from Harry's body as the aftereffects of the ritual kicked in. His wounds began to heal and his heart began to pump. Scars both old and new disappeared and his brain's structure was rearranged. Should Harry have been awake during this time, he would find himself more able to understand the world around him as his comprehension was no longer being hindered by the disease of Voldemort's soul. The goblins gathered around him and lifted him up to place him on a bed. They dared not use magic. It would interfere with the result of the complete ritual and, consequently, Lord Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Black's health. Relieved of the deadweight body, the goblins rushed out of the room, leaving it in quarantine. Soon all that was left was the sound of Harry's breathing. In and out. In and out.

 **A/N:** Hello again. I was shocked to see how many follows and favorites I got on my first chapter. To be honest, I thought it sucked. Apparently not. Because of the response I decided to release the next chapter immediately. Don't get used to it. This is just because of my hype over the success of my first fanfiction. I thought this chapter was a bit better than the first so please let me know what you think. Any offers to be a beta reader would be appreciated. Please pm me if you are interested. Finally, I will be revealing Harry's gift from Fate in chapter 4 or 5 depending on the amount of reviews and follows I get before them. As a couple of people have guessed, it will be an animal familiar. I will let you, the reviewers decide what that familiar with be. Until the revealing of his gift his released please vote on these four options.

A. Shadow wolf (always liked the concept)

B. Phoenix (honestly just putting this one in because I know it's popular)

C. Snake (feel free to name what kind if you want this option)

D. Thunderbird (cause they're cool)

While I am not against reviewers giving their own suggestions that are not on this list, I would recommend not doing so because you are less likely to see success in your vote.

Signing off-

~Whitedrago


	3. Chapter 3: Shopping

**A/N:** This chapter has not been proof-read by betas because I honestly wanted to get it out on Friday last week. I got sick though and so I am just typing this up and uploading it. That being said please don't flame me for any grammatical mistakes. Enjoy the chapter!

He woke up days later and had to take a moment to remember where he was. When he opened his eyes Harry flinched because of the sudden brightness that seemed to overwhelm them. He quickly assessed how he felt. Harry decided that the best way to describe his condition was 'strange'. He felt pain around his scar, like it was splitting open bit by bit. The rest of his body, however, felt great.

Harry sat up and leaned against the head of the bed. As soon as his back touched the headboard, an alarm went off and a goblin healer came rushing in. He couldn't remember who this one was. His head hurt too much to even bother trying to figure that out.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," The healer began. He assumed it was a woman because her voice was high pitched. Harry thought that this sentence actually could be applied literally as he was fairly sure that he died at some point during the ritual. "How do you feel?" The goblin ran her hand from the tip of his head to the bottom of his feet, doing a basic scan for anything that may be wrong due to his resumed consciousness. Harry relayed his assessment to her.

The goblin let out a mumble of acknowledgement as she searched her mind for the results of her scan. Satisfied with her findings the goblin let him know that she would now need a drop of blood to do what Harry dubbed 'the parchment scan' once more. A pin was held out in his direction and he took it. His high pain tolerance because of years with the Dursleys and his previous school year experience led to him not even wincing as he pricked his finger. He dragged his finger from the top to the bottom of the parchment and his finger healed.

The parchment began to suck in its blood and write its findings as it did the first time. This time, however, there was no gasp of shock, nor was there an outraged goblin king to accompany the end of the parchments discoveries. The healer did look slightly peeved though. She let out a huff and when Harry looked at her he could see that her lips were pursed together, a decidedly weird look on a goblin.

"Well the horcrux is gone," she said in a frustrated tone, "but your health still is rather dreadful." Harry nodded in acknowledgement. He already knew that he wasn't the healthiest lad out there. After all, he was always extremely short and skinny for his age, and he was near positive that he had a couple of improperly healed bones from his sessions of 'beat the freak' with the Dursleys. "We will need to put you through the ritual of Demeter before doing anything else," she decided.

Harry was confused by her solution and he let his confusion be known. "What is the ritual of Demeter?" Harry had never delved into ritualistic magic in his previous life. He was too busy fighting the bad guys to learn what he believed to be useless.

The goblin healer looked at him as though he was an insignificant individual who knew nothing. "The ritual of Demeter is an ancient ritual that was created during the time of the Roman Empire. The Romans believed in many gods who ruled over different things." Harry nodded. He knew that from basic history lessons that he had before Hogwarts. "Demeter was the goddess of many things. One of those things was motherhood. The ritual of Demeter was made to heal an individual of all maladies and disfigurements by interweaving runes, powered by an individual's magic and blood, and sending the effect of a mother's nurturing through the individual's body. The downside is that the ritual can only be used on someone who is underage. When your body reaches 17 years of age, it no longer accepts the ritual as it is meant to no longer need its mother's nurturing. Most purebloods and some half-bloods go through this ritual when the clock strikes midnight after their eleventh birthday. This is done at midnight as it is the start of a new year and the rebirth of a new body and done after they are eleven it is then that they go to Hogwarts- the first step towards their own individuality."

Harry absorbed that knowledge trying to remember all of what the goblin said. It could be done until he was 17 and so the information may be used at a later date. He took note of the fact that he now comprehended things with an ease that was previously unknown to him. That would be something to explore later. "So I need to go through this ritual of Demeter to cure what I'm sure is years of malnourishment and badly healed bones. What else does the parchment say?"

The healer handed over his written status. Harry looked at it and was slightly surprised at how little else there was to fix. The only other problem that really needed fixed was his eyesight – something that he didn't plan on fixing by magical means. He had a different idea in mind for that. "Is there anything else that I should do while here at Gringotts?"

The healer looked towards him. Her eyes had a faraway look as though she was viewing something behind Harry that only she could see. It was clear that she was in deep thought. "You could go through the inheritance ritual to see if you have any claim to other houses. This ritual lists your magical abilities as well. We also can do some body enhancement rituals." Harry indicated that she should give more details about the rituals. "We have the ritual of Merlin which allows a mage to use their magic more efficiently – nothing ground breaking mind you. In addition to that we can have you activate a runic circle which gives a mage 'Athena's Blessing'. While it won't actually do all the work for you, the ritual will make it easier to occlude your mind. It will also enhance your reaction speed, help you heal faster, and make your muscles easier to strengthen. Again, the ritual will not do the work for you, with the exception of the enhanced healing and reaction speed. You will need to train to strengthen your muscles and to study to strengthen your mind." Harry adopted a contemplative look even though he knew he would be doing all three suggested things.

The healer spoke up once more. "All of these things will cost a… small… fee of course." Harry agreed without even asking what that fee would be. Had he asked, he likely would have been able to have lowered the price a bit, but even with Fate's revelations he was far too trusting and never thought that he might be scammed.

The goblins wouldn't scam him too badly because of he was Lord Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Black. For one, they held too much respect for him due to his treatment to goblins and secondly, they knew that if he ever found out there would be hell to pay. While the goblins are greedy, they are also cautious and they would not take such a large risk with such a rich client.

"Alright, it will take a while to prepare Athena's blessing, the ritual of Merlin, and the ritual of Demeter. You may chose to do the inheritance test now or later, but I warn you, you may want to be at full strength before taking it. It can be rather trying." The goblin said the last bit with a feral grin that made Harry shudder. So he agreed to take it after the rituals like any other sane being would do. With a final nod to the healer, Harry made his way back to the cart where another goblin was waiting. He explained his plan to return later and stepped into the cart to take a ride first to his vault and then back to the surface. With one look back he exited Gringotts at last.

Harry took a deep breath as he walked down the steps of Gringotts. It felt good after being inside for so long. While the room that he had stayed in wasn't necessarily stuffy, it could not compare to the crisp freshness of external air.

He visited his memories of the beginning of his trip to Diagon Alley and remembered the shop that he had taken note of. "Wands and Lore," he mumbled to himself. He meandered his way back towards Knockturn Alley looking for anything that may be worth visiting. There was a store that displayed a bunch of glasses in its front window and he wondered if they would be willing to take a custom order that he had thought of. Deciding it was worth a shot, he walked in. If nothing else, he would buy a standard pair of glasses. His eyes were starting to hurt due to the strain of trying to see without glasses.

The door emitted a jingle as it opened, but, strangely enough, there was no bell on it. The inside of the store was small. There was only space for two double sided shelves covered in glasses and a desk with a cash register that was squeezed into the corner. He wondered why the owner hadn't used an undetectable extension charm. In the end it didn't matter, he decided. He was only here for a solution to his eyesight problem.

He walked around casting subtle glances around the shop trying the find the store-keeper. When he determined that the store keeper had to be in a back room or running an errand, he decided to take a look at the glasses on display. There were basic glasses of course, but he wasn't interested in those. As he was walking through Knockturn Alley the first time he had thought about Moody's magical eye and wondered whether he could get glasses with similar enchantments. It would be dead useful to be able to see through objects, especially if he was going to be up against both Voldemort and Dumbledore.

The final thought made him thing about Fate's words on Dumbledore. She had called him a manipulative fool. Harry began to debate whether he believed her or not. Dumbledore was the leader of the light, the paragon of all that is good. Surely, he couldn't be, well… not good. He felt a slap against the back of his head and suddenly is vision was clouded by a single sentence. It read:

I did not send you back to make the same mistake.

Harry frowned at that. He had forgotten that Fate knew what he was thinking. It was a bit creepy really. Even with Fate's words he decided that he would form his own opinion about Dumbledore and the other people who Fate had named. This time he would be weary of their actions to see if Fate was indeed right in her opinion. Normally he would just dismiss her words right away, but when you die, meet Fate, and get sent back in time, it becomes rather hard to not believe the words of the being that sent you.

Harry began to grow bored of searching at the glasses. He walked up to the counter impatiently and caught sight of a small bell in the corner. He hit it hard in his frustration. His jaw dropped. Instead of ringing it stayed silent, but that wasn't what had surprised Harry. What surprised him was the man who suddenly appeared in front of him, as though the bell were the trigger for his invisibility booster or something.

"H-how?" Harry asked. The man just smiled at him and waved his wand. Around them everything disappeared and was replaced by two comfy looking arm chairs. The man sat down and gestured towards Harry indicating that he should do the same. And so Harry sat down too.

"Yes," the man spoke at last, "It is funny how often times we cannot see what is in front of our eyes." He pointed towards the door where a bell slowly phased into existence. "Welcome to my eye shop. Here I will take care of all your needs." He spoke in a whimsical tone like he knew everything that Harry did not. Then the tone dropped and he spoke normally. "You are here to get glasses or contacts… right? Otherwise my introduction would be awfully awkward." Harry just nodded. "Excellent. Now then, tell me what you need."

Harry relayed his idea to the man. "Well, I saw those glasses that had runes running along their arms that presumably gave extra effects other than correcting the wearer's vision." The man shook his head in agreement. "So I was wondering if you could do that in contacts."

The man looked at Harry for a couple of moments before cocking his head in thought. "I could expand a contact lens to carve the runes," he mumbled to himself, "but then what about the vision obstruction caused by the runes… yes… yes, I could at an invisibility rune into the runic array and tie it together with the runic symbol for runes to make all of the runes invisible…and then I could… YES! Okay I've got it."

Throughout the man's musing Harry sat patiently. He did wonder why no one had ever thought of this before though. Glasses were certainly annoying when it came to fighting as a simple summoning spell would steal them from his face. And, though his body's hormones hadn't gotten to that point yet, his mind remembered how annoying they were in other, more intimate, experiences. When the man finally announced the conclusion of his rambling, Harry looked up again.

"Okay, so I'll tell you what I can do." The man said in an officious tone. "I will begin by expanding the contact lenses and carving in the runic symbol for runes and invisibility so that the runes don't affect your vision." Harry gestured for him to get on with it. He had already heard this part. "Then, I will begin to carve more runes around the pair." As he spoke the man pulled out a pair of clear contact lenses and began to work. "An adjustment rune here that will adjust it to perfectly work for your eyes." He carved a bunch of lines that made no sense to Harry into the lens. From what he saw before it disappeared it looked like it looked like an octopus leg, but he probably was merely making that up. "Then I'll put a rune of cleansing here so that the lenses never get dirty. A repellant rune to repel water can be placed here." Harry had long since tuned the man out. What he was doing made no sense to Harry. "Next: a shade rune that will adjust for different light levels. Maybe I can fit a zoom rune here that will allow him to see things from further away on command. Yes, I can. Hmm… I can't think of anything else."

Harry snapped out of the daydream that had taken over his mind. "What about something that will allow me to see through objects." He really wanted to have that perk.

The man looked at Harry for a moment, silently judging him. At last, he said, "Aren't you a bit young to be looking for that kind of thing?"

Harry just stared at the man like he was crazy. "What are you tal- Oh no…no." Harry hastily said realizing what the man was insinuating. "I meant to see through walls."

The man now realized what Harry meant, but decided to take the joke a little bit further. "You aren't helping your case young man." He laughed as Harry let out a groan. "Oh, relax. I'm just messing with ya! You want to be able to see hidden things I take it?" Harry nodded vigorously. "Alright," the man decided. "I think I can do that." With a bit more carving he did. Not needing to blow of the dust left behind from carving because of the cleansing rune, the man cast the duplication spell on his work. "Gemino," he intoned. A second lens erupted from the first and he snatched it out of the air. Had the runes already been powered, the duplication spell wouldn't have worked, but without any power the runes were just scribbles on glass.

The man handed them over to Harry and told him to let his magic flow through his body and into the lenses. He was about to explain how to do that, but Harry had already begun to do as commanded. "Huh," the man said, "I usually have to tell kids your age how to do that."

Harry, finished with the lenses popped them over his eyeballs with a shrug. "I just remembered one time I used accidental magic." He recalled how his hair had whipped around and how the table had shuddered before his Aunt Marge had began to expand. "When I tried to replicate that it worked I guess."

The man accepted his explanation and waved his wand once more to return the place back to its original state. Harry still hadn't gotten out of his chair and promptly fell to the ground. "Ouch," he snapped.

"Sorry," the man said unapologetically. Harry walked towards the door, tossing a handful of galleons onto the counter, before the man spoke again. "Make sure not to abuse that sight function when you get older kid," he yelled before adding to himself, "even though I know you will…"

Harry opened the door to leave the shop. Suddenly he spun around asking a question in his movement. "Hey! I never got your name." But the man was gone. Harry stared incredulously before shrugging and leaving the shop. If someone were listening closely they could probably hear something along the lines of 'creepy old man' coming from his mouth, but anyone who was listening dare not follow him as he trudged his way into Knockturn Alley.

As Harry made his way to the shop called Wands and Lore, he tested out the features of his new contacts. He used the feature to see through walls by thinking the activation code "see through walls". It wasn't the most creative activation code, but he only needed to think it, not say it and so nobody ever needed to know. It also allowed him to specify what he wanted to see through so that he wasn't a peeping Tom whenever he activated the feature. He looked around seeing normal shop activities. As he got further into Knockturn Alley, he began to see more shady things. He wasn't surprised by this and he also knew that there was no point in tipping off the aurors. Nobody worth catching ever got caught in Knockturn Alley.

To his right he saw a shop keeper running around checking a bunch of hiding places that held illegal items. To his left he saw a shop full of books of questionable nature. He decided he might visit that one later actually. Maybe he would find something really useful. He kept the function on until he looked into a building and saw a bunch of girls, naked, caged, and underfed in a small, dark room. Directly beyond that he saw a nude man screwing a resigned woman. He quickly turned off the function after that. While he knew that there was nothing he could do about it now, he still wasn't happy about it. He would take care of it when he was stronger he decided.

Next, he activated the zooming feature on his contacts. He promptly fell over as the sudden change in sight set him off balance. "Note to self," he thought as he stood back up, "Do not use that while moving." He dusted off his oversized trousers before walking on.

Finally, he arrived at Wands and Lore. The building looked dirty and Harry would have thought it was abandoned if it weren't for the dim light inside. Not for the first time since he had ventured into the alley, Harry began to have second thoughts. But he gathered his courage and stepped inside. The inside of Wands and Lore was even dirtier. Dust covered the shelves of old, worn books and medieval weapons lay rusted on shelved that appeared to be a sneeze away from falling over. Tentatively, Harry walked towards the back of the shop passing by what he hoped wasn't human remains on the floor. "Hello?" He said in a voice that showed far less terror than he actually felt.

He waited for a while, but got no response. He began to leave, but his turn was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Harry jumped in fear and surprise. A wand was poked into his back.

"Who are you and how do I know that it is safe to sell to you." The voice was gravelly, and sounded like it was as unfamiliar to water as the shop was.

Thinking quickly Harry activated his contacts to find something to use against the new presence. "My name is of no concern to you," he responded, finding what he was looking for beneath a couple of loose floorboards, "And you know it's safe to sell to me because I know about your little zoo that is run beneath your shop. And I haven't told anybody. So can we behave like civilized human beings and talk face to face, with you selling and me buying?" Harry thanked his faster thinking skills due to the removed horcrux. Without that improvement, he would've been in a lot more trouble. Underneath the shop, a few animals were held captive. They were treated surprisingly well and seemed rather content with their home. Nonetheless, the captivity of magical creatures was illegal without a permit and most people didn't bother trying to get one from the Ministry of Magic. It was too much of a hassle.

"How did you know that?" The man growled out his question twisting his wand deeper into Harry's back. The tip was pointed and it was beginning to hurt.

"Again, that is of no concern of yours. What matters is that the aurors aren't knocking on your door and that I am here to buy from a shop that probably sells less than questionable things. Neither of us are doing strictly legal things here, so I ask again that you remove the wand from my back."

Slowly the stranger removed the wand and Harry turned to face him. He looked surprisingly well kept with nice dress robes and a well trimmed goatee. His eyes displayed amusement and Harry began to wonder whether the man had arrived in the right shop. Why would a man with such an appearance run a trash heap of illegal things?

He spoke again, but his voice no longer held the gravelly tone that it once did. Now it was deep and smooth. "Knockturn Alley is not a place for such a little kid," he said ruffling Harry's hair. "I guess you lost your parents. I'll escort you back to Diagon Alley to find them."

Harry, though confused by the man's sudden change in mood, stood strong. "My parents are dead. And I am well aware of where I am. I will not be leaving until I complete my business."

The man looked at Harry for a while. Then he spoke as though all the answers of his questions of the kid in front of him were answered. "Well I guess we better get to business, shouldn't we, Harry Potter?"

Too late Harry realized that the man had used legilimency on him. He growled in frustration. "I will ask that you keep your identity to yourself," Harry said. The man simply shrugged and, though it didn't comfort Harry in the slightest, he figured that that was the best he was going to get. He would be long gone before the man had a chance to spread his identity anyway. Harry spoke up again. "Now that you know my name, I think it is only fair that I know yours."

The man laughed a deep and hardy laugh. "I am tempted to say that is of no concern of yours, but I shall be kind and give you your answer. My name is Markus Randell."

Now knowing Markus' name Harry got to the reason he had come to the store. "Well you already know this Markus, but I am here to get a wand."

"And you know that my wands are not quite the same as Ollivanders?"

Harry didn't know this, but decided to pretend that he did. "Yes," he said with conviction.

"No you do not, but in the end it doesn't matter. I will explain. In this shop I believe that premade wands are the mistake of the wizarding world. For all Ollivander preaches that it is the wand that chooses the wizard, he does not practice it. Yes, he chooses the wand in his shop that best fits the witch or wizard, but that wand certainly isn't the best wand for that witch or wizard. For a perfect match, every part of the wand must have a deep connection to the user. It should grow as the user grows. Because of that, I make wands when a customer comes by using their magic to find what parts will make the perfect companion."

"How do you know what to use?" Harry asked, curious. Surely Markus would in the end have a mismatch similar to Ollivander if he did not know with certainty what parts would match the wizard.

"You will see," he said walking to the back of the shop where a dingy door had appeared. Harry was certain that the door had not been there when he entered. "Come," the man called over his shoulder. And so Harry did.

The back of the shop seemed to fit Markus far more than the front did. It was kept perfectly clean and orderly and was decorated in several warm, welcoming colors. If Harry had looked a bit closer to the details, he would realize that the back was the exact same as the front. The man led Harry to a small nook where a bunch of woods lay in a row. "Close your eyes and focus your magic inwards" Markus instructed.

Harry scrunched up his face and pulled his magic inwards. Suddenly, a block slammed into his hand. He opened his eyes to see a chunk of wood. "Interesting," Markus mumbled, "Elder wood, the wood of death." He picked up his voice again. "Okay now let the magic you pulled in lash out." As Harry let out a pulse of magic the wood appeared to be slashed several times over until all that remained was a stick of wood that looked like it could become a wand.

"Perfect!" Markus smiled before plucking the wood from Harry's hand and walking over to another corner. This corner seemed to hold jars of various materials, some that Harry recognized and others that he didn't. Markus instructed him to do the same thing that he did when he had to find the wood for his wand. Harry did so. Into his hand came a jar containing a single, short feather.

"Even more interesting!" Markus exclaimed. "That feather was a willingly given feather from a phoenix that had just experienced its burning day." Markus removed the feather from the jar and wrapped it around the stick of wood. He then took out his own wand and began to chant, waving his wand in whimsical patterns. The feather and stick glowed blue for a second before the feather seemed to be sucked into the wood. It was now a wand.

"Step 3," Markus announced leading Harry to a shelf in the middle of the room. The shelf was covered in different types of leather. Looking closer, Harry realized they were wand holsters, something that he wanted, but had never got in his previous life. "Okay you know the drill by now," Markus said cheerfully.

Harry was used to sucking in his magic now, so he no longer had to scrunch up his face. This time a white holster came out. It would have appeared pure if it were not for the speckles of red that were splattered around it. Markus let out a cheer. "I never thought I would sell that one." Seeing Harry's confused look he explained his excitement. "That wand holster is made from the hide of a baby unicorn that was unfortunately hunted and killed. It is the ultimate symbol of both good and bad, or light and black if you will. Some would even say gray. It will serve you well. It has rune written on it that will make it only respond to its owner, meaning you, and only you may remove your wand from its hold. No summoning or disarming will remove it from you. It cannot be taken off of your arm unless you wish it so."

"Will I have to activate it?" Harry asked. Internally he was deciding to take Ancient Runes in his 3rd year. He had seen it 3 times since his departure from Privet Drive and was beginning to see the usefulness of it more and more.  
"No." Markus responded. "The runes activated as soon as your magic pulled it towards you. "Now you have a choice for your wand. You know doubt noticed that my wand has a point when it dug into your back." At Harry's nod Markus continued to speak. "That was because there is a jewel implanted into the wand. The tip of the wand lets you see the peak of the otherwise covered jewel. After implementing the jewel I use a couple of severing curses and then it is finished. Now, this jewel will amplify the power of your spells and is also rather painful if stabbed forwards into an opponent. The practice of using jewels has only been around for a short amount of time, so most witches and wizards don't know about it. That in combination with the cost of the jewel and suddenly almost nobody has one. That being said, I think you have enough galleons to cover the cost, don't you Mr. Potter." Harry nodded once again and, upon spotting a clear case of jewels by a counter with a register on the end, he walked towards it without saying a word.

Markus followed Harry and put his hand on the glass. He released some magic onto its surface and slowly the glass seemingly dissolved away. He indicated that it was Harry's time to act once more. Markus' eyes widened as both a ruby and an emerald went into Harry's hand. He knew how to combine the two jewels, but never thought he would do it to make a wand. This was a first. He held out a hand and Harry placed the jewels inside it. Cupping his hand, Markus chanted out a few words while grinding his wand along the 'rim' of the 'bowl'. The two jewels shook for a moment before launching towards each other and fusing into one. The new jewel was a perfect blend of emerald and ruby that swirled around until reaching an already sharp tip. "Well that saves a step," Markus mumbled.

He held out the jewel for Harry and told Harry to use a spell. "It has no wand movement, just intent, you must want the jewel to become one with your wand. I cannot do this for you. It must be your own magic. And so Harry pointed his incomplete wand at the jewel and uttered three Latin words.

"Accio et confundantur" he murmured. The jewel shot towards him and merged with the casting focus. Harry had a wand once more.


	4. Chapter 4: A New Harry

**AN: Again, the following two chapters are not beta-read. I guess I'm far too spontaneous of a writer. Oh well.**

Harry looked down at his wand, marveling at how right it felt in his hand. While in his previous life his holly wand had felt like he had reunited with a friend, this wand felt like he was reuniting with himself. Like he was finally complete. He closed his eyes to savor the waves of magic that flowed through his arm, starting as a stream, turning into a river, and at his core, gushing into an ocean. After committing the feeling to memory, he slowly opened his eyes once more to see an amused Markus looking at him. Harry hastily attached his wand holster to his right arm before addressing Markus about further items that he was interested in purchasing.

"Thank you for the wand Markus." A mumbled 'not at all' was heard before Harry began his inquiry for the betterment of himself. "Now that that's out of the way, I think it is time that I search among the more… interesting part of your shop.

Markus raised an eyebrow at that. "Indeed?" he questioned looking for an explanation that Harry had no intent to give.

"Indeed." Harry stated flatly.

"So the Boy-Who-Lived is interested in the more shady side of magic. I would have thought that Dumbledore would've taught you to shy away from that."

Harry scowled. "Dumbledore has had no say in my life except for when he placed me on the doorstep of my Muggle relatives in the middle of the night." Internally, he winced as he had given far more information than he intended to.

"Indeed." Markus said once more. "Very well then, what is it you are interested in?" And Harry began to relay his mental shopping list to Markus.

The first request was rather simple. Harry wanted the trace removed from his wand. This request was met with a raised eyebrow and a flick of Markus' wand, releasing what minimal hold he, and the Ministry by proxy, had over the wand.

The next request was again relatively simple. Harry wanted some jewelry. The reason for this, though he did not tell Markus, was because, after seeing the work done to his contact lenses, Harry had begun to think about what other things could be done. He figured a locket over his heart covered in basic protection runes (something that surely existed) would allow him to worry less about potential threats. He wouldn't ever drop his guard, years of the Dursleys and Voldemort had seen to that, but he would no longer have to look over his shoulder every two seconds in paranoia. He also wanted a pair of earrings, though he wasn't quite sure what he would do with them yet. There was no raised eyebrow at these requests. After all, what was curious about basic jewelry?

Now Harry delved into the books that Markus had displayed on his shelves. At first, he just perused the sections, not looking for anything in particular, but occasionally stopping when something caught his eye. A small book on the basics of runes was something that Harry immediately scooped up off the shelf. He picked up the books he would need for Hogwarts as well. There was no point in going back to the Alleys when he could just make his purchases then and there.

After a small period of time, a row of books stacked up 4 high lay across Markus' counter. But that wasn't enough for Harry. Harry believed that if he had to redo his miserable existence, then he would do it the right way and maybe, just maybe, he would make it a little less miserable. And so Harry began to ask Markus for tomes that no ten year old should ever be interested in reading. It wasn't that they were questionable in nature, though some of them were; it was just that they were far more complex than a ten year old should be able to read, much less understand. But Harry insisted and Markus wasn't one to shy away from a good sale. A couple of books like _Magick Moste Evile_ and _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ drew a curious glance, but other than that, Markus showed no intent to stop Harry. They were balanced out by books like _The Way of the Light_ and _Beating Your Opponent Without Killing Them_ anyways.

Harry's final request was where Markus drew the line. "I need to buy all that you have on horcruxes," Harry said, whispering the last word like there was someone else listening.

Markus wasn't the most moral man and he would be the first to admit it. Sure he never did anything bad, (the illegal zoo beneath his floor wasn't bad even if it was illegal) but he had helped his fair share of dark wizards in the past. It wasn't something he was proud of, but he needed to make money and his OWL and NEWT scores weren't high enough to get a job in the ministry. But even with his lack of morals, that word, that _thing_ , was something against his limited morals.

He had stumbled upon it in a book once. It was when he had first opened his shop and was struggling to hold his life together. He had found a box full of old books on the ground and decided that he could sell them. Markus would be making money off of handouts and he had no problem with that. But he was curious as to why they were abandoned.

A couple of days later in his shop he picked them off the shelf one by one and read them. It was on the 34th page of the 5th book that nearly made him vomit. That was the chapter on horcruxes. Markus originally wanted to throw it away, but he couldn't risk someone else finding it. He wanted to burn it, but it seemed to be flames resistant. He tried to soak the pages in water to make the ink flow away, but the pages seemed to suck the water in and the words that were fading in the book from age were restored to look like they had been written the day before.

It was then that Markus built a hidden compartment into his store. It was small, just big enough for the book to fit in and it was coated with wards nearly as strong as the ones over Gringotts and Hogwarts. Most importantly, though, it was hidden. Hidden so that the words could be lost in time. And Markus had forgotten about it. Oh, he had forgotten about it. Forgotten about it until now. And he was furious.

"Get out!" He snarled at the boy spittle flying from his mouth in every direction. Unconsciously, his latent Animagus form began to change his features. It wasn't too noticeable, but it was certainly there. His ears seemed to lean back and his canine teeth grew slowly. Harry saw nothing else to do, but to raise his hands in surrender and he slowly backed his way out of the shop. There was no point in trying to explain himself. He knew that fury like that saw no reason. If he wanted the information that Markus seemed to hide, he would have to wait for such fury to die down.

Finally backing out of the shop, he turned and sprinted away. His actions had almost certainly drawn attention to him, but he didn't care. There was no way he would be returning to that shop.

He would be returning to that shop, Harry decided nearly 50 minutes later. He needed to. Markus clearly had information and a good amount of it too if his fury was any indication. And so Harry definitely needed to return. He would not be returning the way he had arrived of course. No, this time he would send a letter to explain his query and after that he would wait the three days he estimated it would take before Markus grew curious and decided to read it. Then one more day would be taken for Markus to get over the fury that the new information gave him. And finally, Harry would be able to receive what was needed.

'You know, that would have been a good time to intervene,' he thought, hoping that fate would receive the frustration he was projecting. She did, but she didn't care. All Harry got was a cheeky looking smiley face that clouded his vision. "Of course," he mumbled.

He was sitting in a tiny tea shop in Diagon Alley, originally he had settled there to catch his breath and to let his heart settle down. Now, he was just being lazy. Who said that he couldn't have some 'me time' anyways? He was going to save the world after all, so no one could deny him a little R&R.

He brought himself to his feet and made to walk towards the Leaky Cauldron to rent a room. Then he stopped and mentally face palmed. He still had to stay hidden. It wouldn't do for Dumbledore to find out and send him back to the Dursleys and, while he was skeptical that Dumbledore could be as bad as Fate portrayed him to be, he was certain that Dumbledore would send him back to the Dursleys despite any pleas that Harry may have made.

With that thought, Harry shuddered. He really didn't want to experience the beating he was sure to get for using his freakishness to escape and ruin their door. It would be even worse if someone had actually taken advantage of the vulnerability that Harry had so graciously applied to the Dursley household. Still internally shaking from the thought, Harry made his way towards Gringotts. He had a Lestrange vault to claim.

He walked through the doors of Gringotts and promptly collided with someone, falling onto his back. His head hit the ground hard and he groaned. Ignoring the pain he stood up and convinced himself it wasn't that bad. He had received worse, he told himself. But when he looked down and saw who he had run into, those thoughts quickly turned into panic. A blond girl looked up at him, her eyes glaring at him with such fury that made him take a step back.

With a pale complexion, her skin was smooth, like the bottom of the tin foil ball Harry always saw kids rubbing on the table after finishing their lunch. Though it wasn't silvery. Nor was it a cube. Her eyes were blue and hard, holding no emotion, but fury. Harry hoped that wasn't her resting state because that would be terrifying. She wore expensive dress-robes that seemed to shout 'pureblood'. 'Acromantula silk?' he wondered. He was nearly positive that he recognized her, but couldn't seem to figure out why exactly he recognized her.

Then she spoke. "It is rather rude to knock over a lady," she began, "but it is not nearly as rude as knocking over a lady and then not offering her assistance to get up."

Harry blushed and quickly ran up to offer her his hand. He pulled her up to her feet and saw that she was taller than he was. That was unsurprising. He had grown up undernourished and in a cupboard after all.

" _Kiss her hand_ ," a voice said inside his head. At first he thought it was Fate giving him instructions, but he quickly dismissed the thought. No, this voice sounded… it sounded more like him. That was strange. It was strange, but Harry complied anyway. Perhaps he had simply remembered reading something when he was bored in the library that Hermione had forced him to go to.

But then Harry seemed to go on auto-pilot. "My most sincere apologies, fair maiden," he spoke with a tone far more formal than he had ever used before. "I certainly should have been paying more attention to a beautiful young lady such as yourself rather than my business at Gringotts." She sniffed and turned up her nose. Harry, though his body didn't show it, was mortified. He wanted so desperately to stop, but his mind said no and continued on. He bowed. It was more of a nod than anything, but Harry somehow knew it was a bow all the same. "I must apologize for not naming myself. There are certain parties that would be most… displeased if they found out I was here. I am certain you can understand." He ended his statement with a charming smile.

"You mean to give such a small bow to someone of my stature and not to identify yourself?" She almost hissed her question, but the part of Harry that seemed to have taken over just smiled.

"Hm. Yes, I do. Perhaps one day I will be able to introduce myself in proper and you will see exactly what _my_ stature is." He emphasized the word 'my' as if to say he was better than her. Harry didn't like how he sounded. It was almost like he had become Malfoy. "But I assure you," he paused for a moment and let his green eyes flash with power that Harry never knew he had, "that you will find that my greeting was quite correct. Now then, I must be on with my business. Good day." Harry walked passed her leaving a startled girl in his wake. About 10 paces past her, Harry suddenly felt like himself again. Immediately a blush found its way to his cheeks and he wanted to turn to apologize. His body didn't listen. Scowling, he made his way to a goblin teller and spoke of his previous stay with the goblins, asking for one more night. The goblin grouchily agreed and Harry found himself on the cart riding to a room in the deep below.

They arrived at a different room than the one Harry previously stayed in. At first he was surprised, but when he thought about it, it made sense. The room he had previously inhabited was for the recovering and Harry was in perfect health at the moment.

His room was barely decorated, but it suited him just fine. The ceiling was a bit low, likely because it was made for goblins, but Harry was still small enough to stand at full height. There was a single torch, a desk with a chair, and a bed. Harry didn't need anything extravagant, he only needed a place where he could hide out and relax. Maybe he would read a book or two. But first he needed a nap and so he fell on the bed, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

He found himself in a garden. Looking around, he found nothing special about it, but he also knew that he had fallen asleep in the goblin's room. And this place was about as far off from a goblin room as one could get. The skies were vast and the land full of color. He was about to start walking when a woman phased into existence. It was Fate.

"You're finally beginning to fulfill your potential," she said. Her voice had changed into a soft caress on Harry's soul. "Do not let yourself forget that once you go to Hogwarts. If you don't, this will be the last visit from me in a while."

Harry didn't know how he felt about that. On one hand, it was annoying to have a backseat driver constantly telling him what to do. On the other, having Fate as his backseat driver was somewhat reassuring. He told her as much, though in hindsight, he realized he probably didn't need to.

"Oh, Harry. You will not be able to fully recognize yourself if you don't live like a normal human being. I cannot always be there for you. You must learn to be there for yourself."

Harry understood this, but he had one more question to ask. "Just before I went to sleep, I found myself on auto-pilot. I was acting all formal and stuff. What was that?"

Fate smiled. "I did say you would absorb some of Voldemort's knowledge. Before he came into power, he needed to be charismatic in order to charm some purebloods to his cause. So he learned their customs. When a voice in the back of your head tells you what to do, it is likely something that Riddle knows. Beware that some of the magic and rituals that he knew aren't exactly good for your health. Use common sense and you will be fine."

Harry was slightly uncomfortable with using his enemy's knowledge, but he eventually came to the conclusion that it gave him more benefits than harm. So he nodded to Fate's words and prepared himself for his return to the real world. "Oh, one more thing. Is this all happening in my head? Or is it real?"

"Well of course it's in your head, Harry. But why should that mean it isn't real?" **AN not exact wording, but taken from the Deathly Hallows.** "But even if it wasn't real; would I really say as much?" With a cheeky grin in response to Harry's scowl, Fate, and the rest of the world faded away.

Harry woke up, though for once he wasn't coated in sweat with his heart beating a million miles a minute. He stared up at the stone ceiling for a little while before he got up and made his way to the door. It was time to give the goblins the bad news.

He opened the door and looked around, slightly surprised that there wasn't a guard by his door. Deciding that no matter which way he went, he would likely eventually meet a goblin, he turned to his right and began to walk down the hallowed halls.

His steps emitted a light echo as he walked, and he found himself thinking of nothings while he walked. In his thoughts, the walk breezed by until, after a while, he broke free from his pondering just before he would have collided with a door. He knocked on the door, grinning lightly at his luck for catching himself before his collision. It was then that the door slammed open, decking him to the ground.

A goblin looked down at him without any sympathy and asked him what he wanted. He requested an audience with Ragnok. The goblin sneered at him, but turned to lead him to Ragnok all the same. Harry hastily got up and followed him.

This walk was far shorter as, after only a few minutes, Harry found himself at the bedazzled door once more. The goblin opened it and Harry walked in. Ragnok looked down at him from his throne.

"You know, you are the first human to ever see me two times within a week." His voice was neither kind, nor mean. He was simply making a statement.  
"I think you will find it worth it," Harry responded.

"Oh, I already do. You are a most interesting wizard, Harry Potter." Ragnok then made his inquiry. "But you didn't come here to chat. What is it you wish to tell the goblin nation?"

Harry took a gulp, swallowing his worries, before drawing up the courage to speak. "I know the location of a couple of other horcruxes, one of which will be very easy to get." The goblins snarled at the 'h' word, but remained attentive as Harry spoke. "What would you say, Lord Ragnok, if I told you there was one such object inside one of your vaults?"

Ragnok blinked, before growling out his reply. "I would say we have a vault to confiscate and a bank manager to execute. It is an insult to the race of goblins if he (as all goblin bank managers were male) allowed one of those into our esteemed caverns."  
Harry wasn't exactly happy about the execution part, but for once he wasn't going to rush to the unlucky sod's aid. He wouldn't be withholding the information to spare the goblin's life because he didn't fancy staging another break in to Gringotts. So he spoke up, condemning the goblin to his demise.

"While I loathe to ask for a reward for my knowledge, I am sure there are some things in this vault that I would find of use." Ragnok just nodded. He would likely have given Harry the entire vault for the knowledge of the horcruxes location, but he wouldn't deny his people some extra gold if Harry didn't want it. "It is the Lestrange vault." Harry announced.

Ragnok snapped his fingers and the goblins sprang into action. Half of them headed towards the surface, presumably to detain the manager, and half of them formed up to surround their king, who had jumped down from his throne and marched his way forwards. He gestured towards Harry, silently ordering Harry to join him.

They marched with the honor guard to a large cart. Harry would have called it a chariot, were it not for its lack of horses and wheels. They all piled into the cart and one of the guards pulled a lever. They shot off into the dark cavern depths.

This ride was far smoother than any ride in a goblin cart that Harry had ever had. He looked up to see the Lestrange vault, sitting just as he remembered it, though he supposed the dragon looked a bit younger. He felt a wave of sympathy for the dragon. It wouldn't be getting its freedom this time.

They picked up the clangers to ward their way past the dragon. Harry began to wonder about the security of this vault. The tools weren't exactly hidden. 'Then again,' he thought, 'The thief would need a goblin to operate the cart and open the door.'

Ragnok made his way up to the vault door and almost kicked it down, a vast difference from what Griphook had done in his previous life. Harry wondered if the king had some sort of special permission throughout the bank vaults.  
Ragnok waved his hand and spit out something in Gobledegook. Harry guessed that it was a curse word. Then he let out his voice which, in his anger, boomed throughout the vault, echoing several times over. "You are correct. There is a horcrux in here. Do you know what it is?"

Harry gestured towards Hufflepuff's cup and Ragnok snapped his fingers again. A goblin rushed forwards with a glove covering his hand and retrieved the cup from its perch. Then Ragnok let him know some unfortunate news. "Unfortunately, the ritual we used on you will not work on a non-living entity and we at Gringotts would never dream of ruining such a treasure. We also are aware that we can't let this soul remain. Therefore, I propose a solution. The cup will remain in a secure place, known only by me, until you come of age. At that time, we will get rid of the horcrux, whether it destroys the object or not. In this time, I will have a team of goblins researching the topic and I hope you will find some time to do the same." Harry nodded. "Very well," Ragnok proclaimed, "You may take what you wish and we will not interfere.

Harry looked around a bit before coming to a decision. He would take all the books, some of the jewelry, and a couple weapons. A couple of throwing knives looked rather interesting to him. As he perused the weapon he came across a very strange looking knife. 'It is a ritual knife,' the voice in the back of Harry's head told him. Harry decided to take that knife too. He made his way back towards the door and nodded at Ragnok, acknowledging that he was done. He then made his way to the cart.

After the other goblins joined him, the cart shot off again. Harry just closed his eyes and relished his relief over part of his quest's completion. He only opened them again when the cart stopped. Harry blinked in confusion. He was at another door, one that he was sure didn't lead to the surface. While he hadn't explicitly said that he wanted to leave, he thought the goblins wouldn't have put up with his company for much longer. He looked towards Ragnok with an unspoken question in his eyes.

"The rituals have been prepared. Should you so desire, we can proceed with them." Harry was slightly surprised at how quickly they prepared it, but gave an excited head bob in assent. They made their way into the room. Unsurprisingly it was rather plain with only a flat floor and three circles set up. The circles made up for the monotony.  
The goblins began to sheppard him towards the closest circle. Harry recalled the goblin healer telling him that he would need to do the ritual of Demeter first. He guessed that this circle was it. The circle would be considered rather plain, were it not for the four objects that rested at the cardinal points. There was a jar of phoenix tears to the north, and a thestral hair to the south. To the east was a cornucopia and the west had a single strand of wheat.

The goblins stopped pushing him along, when he reached the center. Then they all left. Harry had no idea what to do and just stood there looking around in stupidity. Then a voice from an unknown location filled the cavern.

"Push your magic into the center of the circle."  
Harry looked down and saw that the four cardinal points were linked by two perpendicular lines that connected the opposite directions together, north to south and east to west. Harry put his hand down on the midpoint where the two lines connected and focused on how he felt whenever he cast a spell. The lines glowed blue, and Harry's vision was suddenly filled with white. He screamed in agony as bones realigned and mended. As years of hunger was filled and his hunched figure was straightened. And then there was only peace. He realized that at some point he had closed his eyes and reopened them. He took a step forwards only to stumble as his body readjusted to his new center. He staggered his way to the next circle.

This circle was far more complicated with lines going every which way in a pattern that made no sense to Harry. This ritual was drawn in ash, and in conjunction with the items around the circle, Harry realized that this was the ritual of Merlin. Twelve objects surrounded him as he stood in the center. Starting at the north and going clockwise, there was a thunderbird tail feather, a piece of elder wood, a vial of pepper-up potion, a vampire's tooth, a basilisk's eye, a piece of holly wood, a phoenix feather, a piece of acacia wood, some werewolf fur, a jar of purple gas that could only be a Nundu's breath, a thestral's hide, and a piece of oak wood.

This time, Harry knew what to do. He repeated the process of the previous circle and prepared himself for a rush of pain. It didn't come. In fact, to Harry it seemed like nothing happened at all, but when he looked around he saw that all of the objects had been replaced by a pile of ash so he figured it had worked.

The final circle had to be Athena's blessing. Once again, the circle's edge held a phoenix feather, though this time it likely represented strength instead of magic. The circle also held a sword, a shield, and an owl's feather. Once again, when Harry powered the ritual, nothing really happened, but when he began to walk, he found his muscles screaming in agony. It was then that he realized that he would be in a constant state of pain for a while until he had finally realized his potential in physical strength. Using his fingernail, he cut himself to check out the ritual's healing aspect. He watched in fascination as the wound slowly closed itself, almost stitching itself together.

The goblins returned to the room, this time with a piece of parchment and a blood quill. Harry winced at his bad memories involving that particular writing utensil. He knew the goblins wouldn't bring it unless it was necessary though.

Five goblins stepped forwards and set up an interesting table. The table legs were made of swords that leaned against each other, somehow remaining upright. The table's surface was a single, round shield. It was probably the most dangerous table Harry had ever seen.

The parchment and blood quill were place on the 'table' and Ragnok stepped forward. "I, King Ragnok III, hereby proclaim that I am witnessing the inheritance of one Hadrian James Potter." Harry blinked at his name. He had always assumed that his name was Harry, but he guessed that it was a nickname. "Please," Ragnok gestured towards Harry, "write your full name on the parchment and learn of your ancestors before you."

Harry wrote his name, making sure to spell out Hadrian instead of Harry. The parchment absorbed his words of blood and paused as though deliberating some huge moral dilemma. And then it wrote back in a manner reminiscent of Tom Riddle's diary.

 _Hadrian James Potter_

 _Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter_

 _Lord of the Most Ancient House of Peverell_

 _Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor_

 _Heir of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_

There were no surprises. Ragnok simply nodded before confirming Harry's claim. "So I name you Lord Potter. So I name you Lord Peverell. So I name you Lord Gryffindor. So I name you Heir Black. I, King Ragnok III, hereby dub thee Lord Hadrian James Potter Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Black. So mote it be." The goblins repeated his last sentence and Harry hastily joined them. "Know now," Ragnok informed him, "That though your lordship title includes Black, you are not the Lord Black, you simply have the right to use that name. Also, you will not be able to participate in the Wizengamot until you reach the age 15, or are declared of age by at least three Ministry officials." Harry nodded and Ragnok snapped his fingers.

Harry's fingers were spread apart slightly to make room for the three rings that appeared on his fingers. Ragnok then told Harry their features. "The ring of Potter, a house that is prideful and values truth, serves as a lie detector. It does not work on people who are actively using Occlumency. May it serve you well. The ring of Black, a house that is renowned for caution, serves as a poison detector. Any potion that will cause the wearer ill-effects will cause the ring to send a pulse of knowledge to your brain, informing you of what poison and who brewed it. May it serve you well. The ring of Peverell is a rather special invention. It can store a limited amount of magic to use when your reserves are depleted. May it serve you well. You may have noticed that you do not have the ring of Gryffindor." Harry acknowledged that he did, in fact, notice that. "The ring of Gryffindor requires a special test. When it touches your finger you will be brought to that test. If you pass, you get the ring. If you fail, you die." Harry gulped and opened his mouth to speak, but with a smirk from Ragnok and a snap of the goblin's fingers, Harry felt the final ring wrap around his pinky, and teleported away

He found himself on the tip of a mountain with a deep hole in the middle. It wasn't a volcano as there was no lava and the bottom could not be seen. There was no direction to go, except down. Harry looked around for another option, but found none.

He took a deep gulp, and looked to the sky taking a final look at the endless blue before his certain demise. And then he jumped.

He fell for ages and ages until, suddenly, his feet slammed into the ground. He looked around and saw the goblins smiling at him. His eyes widened before he let out a whoop of glee. He had passed the test.

"Congratulations," Ragnok said, "The ring of Gryffindor is rather simple really. Just channel your magic into the ring and a sword most loyal will appear." Harry channeled his magic into the ring and found his hand filled with a familiar hilt. In his hand, lay the sword of Gryffindor.


	5. Chapter 5: A Place to Live

Harry found himself in Diagon Alley, making a mental checklist of things that he needed to do. He needed a trunk for all of his new purchases, he needed to get some supplies for potion brewing, and he needed somewhere to live.

Harry thought his options over for a bit before determining that he should get himself a trunk first. It would make no sense to get potion supplies if he had nowhere to store it and get wanted to have everything he needed before settling down into what would be his living quarters until his time at Hogwarts. The second reason was more of an excuse really. In actuality he was just getting frustrated with all of the shrunken books poking him from his pocket.

Slowly he walked through Diagon Alley making sure to keep his head down and avoid recognition. At this point, if he got caught in Diagon Alley he would certainly be in big trouble with Dumbledore.

Harry made his way to the trunk shop before raising his head and opening the door. The interior was exactly what one would expect a trunk shop to look like. Two walls were decked out in shelves full of trunks and the center of the shop had a small pyramid of some rather generic looking options. The corner opposite of the 2 shelved walls had a large desk with a wooden chair behind it.

In that wooden chair sat a witch who looked rather bored. Her head of raven hair was leaned against a tanned fist and her blue eyes were fixated on the desk. Harry suspected she was day dreaming, but she could've been counting the amount of lines on the desk. Upon hearing the door open she looked up. Her face now sported a fist shaped light spot that would slowly fade away. She stoop up, excited, as though Harry's arrival was the highlight of her day. And it probably was. Most of the shops in Diagon Alley were likely busy for a couple of weeks before Hogwarts schooling started and then empty for the rest of the year. Harry wondered how places like Ollivanders stayed in business.

"Hello!" She yelled out her greeting causing Harry to flinch. "Welcome to Trunk Funks," Harry actually cringed at the name, but she continued speaking, not paying him any mind. "My name is Serena, how many I be of assistance?" When she finished speaking she stayed a bit before falling over. Evidently, her body was not happy with her rather rushed change in position. She tried to grab Harry to help support her, but all she ended up doing was bringing him down with her.

Harry let out a yelp before his body slammed into the ground. After that he just groaned. Serena scampered to her feet shouting out apologies faster than Harry's mind could process them. But then she suddenly stopped. Harry looked up to see her staring at him and cursed. At some point during their fall Harry's hair must have split apart just enough to show his famous scar.

While the scar wasn't nearly as prominent as it had been before the horcrux's removal, it was still one of his more defining features. "Bloody hell. It's Harry Potter." Before she could start freaking out Harry interrupted her.

"If you keep this quiet I will do any one thing for you," he hastily said. Harry really hoped she didn't ask for anything extreme. An autograph, he could do, but if she asked him to put his tie around her door knob, he would be very uncomfortable.

"Oh. Yes, yes. Err I'm so sorry, I'm usually far more professional," she claimed and despite Harry's initial impression he believed her. He nodded before stating his order.

"I just need a trunk." He gestured towards the stack of trunks in the middle of the store. "Any trunk will do really." Serena looked mildly offended, something that really confuses Harry.

"The boy-who-lived buying a basic trunk?" She let out a tut. "No, no, no! That simply won't do. You need a special trunk." At this Harry raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to elaborate. "Well," she began, "those trunks in the middle are basic trunks. All they have is one compartment. It would be an insult to the both of us if I sold you something like that. You need a custom trunk. No, you need something that's never been made before. Something unique and only for you. Just say what you need, anything you need and I will make it happen." Serena punctuated her statement with a confident smile and Harry knew she wouldn't take no for an answer. He also knew that she would know if he left anything out. Because of this, he paused and considered what he wanted to order.

"I need a trunk with eight compartments," he decided, "but only 6 of them should be obvious. The remaining two should be a secret… maybe triggered by a button hidden somewhere in another compartment?" She nodded that it could be done. Harry then made his request more specific. "The two hidden compartments should be left alone. I want to customize them myself." Serena opened her mouth to ask why, but Harry cut her off. "It is best that you don't know what I do with the hidden compartments." She looked surprised, but didn't make an effort to interrupt him again. "As for the obvious compartments… well I'm not exactly sure if you can do all of this, but I'll ask anyway. For the first compartment I need general storage. That's probably easy enough. I want compartment #2 to be a library, ideally with a cataloging system." At that she smirked and he just knew she was going to one-up his request. "For #3 I want a potions lab. I will be the first to admit that I don't know much about potions, so you put whatever you think I will need in there. As a matter of fact I leave it all to you for anything you think I will need on the exception of supplies. I will get those myself." She nodded. "Compartment 4 should be an exercise and training area for both physical and magical strength. In compartment 5 I want to grow plants and, finally, in compartment 6, I want an apartment."

Realizing he was finished she spoke. "I can do all of that relatively easily, but I have a question. Why do you need the apartment?"

Harry, figuring that giving the truth would allow him to get away with the least explanation answered. "I need a new home." While Serena looked like she wanted to dig deeper, she refrained.

"So I assume you have nowhere to stay tonight?" Remembering that he had told the goblins that his previous stay would be the last, Harry nodded. "I think I'm going to call in my favor then. You will be staying in my flat until I finish your compartment." Before Harry could protest, Serena added some details that would make her request seem less like charity. "You will help me by running errands for me for a week and, most importantly, you will take a photo with me." She let out a cheeky grin at the last bit. Harry, seeing no other option, accepted her deal.

It had taken the entire week for Serena to make the trunk and Harry had certainly worked off whatever rent he may have owed. The amount of errands she had him run was simply astounding, though half of them were for his own trunk so Harry supposed he couldn't complain. Even with Harry being worked to the bone, he found himself slightly disappointed when Serena had told him about his trunk's completion. Being in her company had been very entertaining and he felt much sorrow over needing to say goodbye. But he had to. He had work to do.

Serena handed him a small box, no bigger than a matchbox, and listed the price as 2,458 galleons. Anyone else may have shouted out complaints at the overwhelming price, but Harry didn't even bat an eye. He was getting a discount if anything because the furniture alone had cost more than that. Nonetheless, he was used to Serena's personality by now and knew better than to try to pay her more. She would never accept.

Harry just took the trunk, paid her, and gave a sorrowful nod goodbye before walking out the door without a second look back. He made his way to a small side Alley that, while not filled with shops, certainly saw it's fair share of business. At the alley's dead end, he placed down the small box and placed his pinky finger on the bottom left-hand corner. The box suddenly grew in size and revealed itself as his trunk. His eyes widened at the craftsmanship on the lid alone.

The trunk was mostly made of spruce wood, but that wasn't the eye-drawing feature. No, what drew his eyes was the large crest in the middle. A hippogryff stood proud and strong l, staring off into an unseen battlefield from which it had emerged victorious. The Crest was colored purple and gold and was meticulously engraved into his trunk. But it was not alone. Underneath it lay there other crests in an arch.

Directly beneath the Potter crest was that of the Peverells. It was probably the most simple design, being only the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. The symbol itself was painted in a dull gold color and the background was colored a piercing silver. It was the silver that drew an individual's eye and thus, indirectly the gold popped out… or in. It was like looking at a plain donut from a distance. You wouldn't know it was a donut if your eyes hadn't noticed its lack of a center.

To the left of the Peverell crest was the symbol of the blacks. A black grim looked out from a sea of a green so dark, it almost appeared black. It was almost amusing that the Black crest was represented by a grim. Sirius, who had tried on so hard to escape his family, found his inner animal to be the biggest representation of the Black family. Pure, black death.

Finally, to the right of the Peverell crest, a lions head roared. It could have been a griffin, Harry supposed, but without a body, it only looked like a lion. The crest was colored in its trademark red and gold, with the background as the red and the lion as the gold.

They were not the only adornments on the trunk. In each corner lay a single rune, one of which Harry had already used. The bottom left-hand corner that he had touched held a rune of resizing. It had two settings. If Harry touched only his pinky to it, the trunk would grow to a normal size. If Harry put his palm on it- something which was impossible if the trunk was in its smaller state- the trunk would shrink to the size of a matchbox.

In the corner above that, a rune of durability rested. That rune would keep the trunk from getting damaged for many years and, when it eventually was damaged, a repair would fix the trunk perfectly.

In the bottom-right corner, a rune of weightlessness was carved. The purpose of that rune was rather self-explanatory. No matter what size his trunk was, it would always weigh next to nothing. Harry really wished he had had that option for his trunk in his previous life. It would have been most useful.

Finally, in the upper right-hand corner, a rune of stealth was engraved. Should Harry ever need to hide his trunk, like he would be until Hogwarts, all he had to do was place his palm on the rune. The trunk would then be invisible to all who didn't know where to look. He would be hiding in plain sight.

The stealth rune wouldn't be useful in a populated place because, while it did make the trunk essentially invisible, it did not make it completely go away, so any unlucky sod who happened to trip over it would know where to look to find it. For that reason, Harry had chosen the side alley to plant his trunk in. He would place a sticking charm on its side, attach it to the wall in a place above human heights and then transfigured the ground into some stairs to get to the top. Next he would knock on the Potter crest a select number of times, one knock for each compartment lower he wanted to go, and the trunk would open. He would cancel his transfiguration before falling into his trunk and flicking his wand to close the lid behind him.

The trunk had no latch to open it. To any unsuspecting person, it would appear to be sealed shut, that is if they could even see it, which was doubtful. The only way to open the trunk was to knock on the Potter crest. Even then, though, it wouldn't necessarily work. In one of the two hidden compartments, which could not be accessed by knocking, there was a single book on a lone pedestal. In that book, the names of people who were allowed access to the trunk would be written down. At the moment only two names were written, one of which was crossed out. Harry's name was written without a strike through it and Serena's name, at her insistence, was crossed out. Therefore, the trunk would only open for Harry's magical signature.

The only flaw in the trunk's security was that anyone could reenter the trunk while it was open. Therefore, if someone who was named in the book, was held at wand point and forced to open the trunk, the security would be useless. The bottom two compartments' security covered that flaw in a way so simple that no mage would ever think of it. Indeed, Serena was baffled at Harry's security suggestion.

Beneath a floor board there were two three runes written into the ground. Two of the runes were simply numbers. The third rune was something which roughly translated to 'sink'. All Harry had to do to access one of the two hidden compartments was place one of his palms on one of the numbers and the other on the central rune. The runes would take a bit of magic from him to power them and then Harry would find himself falling through the floor. Similarly, in each of the hidden compartments there was a rune that translated to 'rise'. It too was hidden. That way, even if someone managed to get down there, they would have a hard time getting out.

Because the runes weren't actively magical, they couldn't be detected by magical means. Additionally, because they were only carved into the ground underneath a floor board (or behind a wall in the hidden compartments, no one could knock everywhere to find a hollow area. It wasn't impenetrable, but it was a damn good security system in Harry's opinion.

He began to tour his new 'home' with a smile of amusement. How had he gone shopping for a trunk and wended up with a high security home? He knocked once and the trunk's lid flipped open on imaginary hinges. The first compartment was… well it was nothing. It was literally a hole of nothingness. Had Harry not been told what it was for he would have been dreadfully confused. He looked at the underside of the lid and nodded.

While most trunks would have a giant compartment to squish stuff in, his was a bit different. All he had to do was drop the item he wished to store into the abyss of nothingness. Then, when he needed the item he had to put his hand in a square carved into the trunk's underside. In that square was a rune of summoning. When he channeled his magic into the rune and said what he wanted, the object would appear to the right of the square. Depending on the size of the object, it may appear in a shrunken form. Should that be the case, as soon as Harry touched it, it would return to its original size. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked… actually he wasn't sure how most of the things in the trunk would work, but it did work and that was what mattered to him.

He closed the trunk before knocking again, this time he knocked twice. As he had ordered, this compartment was a library. To be honest it was mostly pointless because he could just store the books in the previous compartment and summon them through the lid. But it looked nice and was linked to every compartment in the trunk. All he had to do was ask for a book, or a type of book, and it or they would appear directly next to him. The library also included a central research table and, in the back, there was two small study rooms for if the main table was being used and someone wanted to study alone.

The library was decorated with a deep blue carpet and just off-white walls. Everything else was made of wood. The desks, the tables, the desks, and the doors. Overall, Harry thought it was perfect for his needs.

Next he toured compartment three, the options lab. The interior was somewhat reminiscent to the dungeons that hosted Potions classes back at Hogwarts. The floor was stone, the walls were stone, and the roof was stone. There were several tables lying around in an organized fashion, as though a lecture was being prepared in front of them. The back of the room was covered with cupboards and cabinets. One large cabinet was to be dedicated to cauldrons. Two others were for potion ingredients. The inside of the doors of the ingredient cabinet had stasis runes engraved into it. The underside of each table had a drawer filled with empty vials and flasks. Harry planned on filling them up with potions for combat and healing. He would hate every moment of brewing and the potions would likely be sub-par… unless he could get Snape's potions book. Harry might hate Snape, but even he had to admit the man knew how to brew a good potion.

The exercise compartment was next. Inside was a room full of weight racks and a set of stairs. One corner was matted so that he could do exercises like sit-ups in comfort. The stairs were there for him to run up and down. The reason for the weights was rather obvious. One wall was bare though. It was enchanted with every durability spell one could find and, just for good measure, runes of durability and repair were carved multiple times on its surface. Harry would be casting spells at that wall when he wasn't in the dueling pit. The dueling pit was in the center. It was a deep bowl with boulders scattered around sporadically. Around its edge a track for running was built in. Harry didn't let Serena know his plans for it, but he planned on taking another trip to Knockturn Alley to complete the room.

At some point during the first war with Voldemort, the Wizengamot had put a ban on training dummies. Training dummies were enchanted, human-like figures that cast spells at an opponent when they were activated. Officially, the Wizengamot had banned the dummies because they didn't want death eaters to use them. Everyone knew that the death eaters would use them anyway though. In actuality it was pushed by the death eaters hoping to cripple the Order of the Phoenix and other individual fighters. Upon getting the law passed the death eaters began a swift purge on the Aurors and hitwizards, the only people who were legally allowed to use the dummies. It was in this purge that some great Aurora were lost.

Edgar Bones was found with his wife, dead in their manor. Their child, Susan, was being babysat by her aunt Amelia at the time and therefore was mercifully spared. The entire McKinnon family was slaughtered when a raid targeting Marlene McKinnon, an auror and Order of the Phoenix member, was executed. Master Auror Alastar Moody had several close calls until he was taken out of the war by Rudolphus Lestrange via a dark cutting course to the leg. Before that he fought with Evan Rosier, killing his opponent, but not before losing his eye and part of his nose. An attack featuring Auror Captains James Potter and Sirius Black along with Lily Potter was reported with Voldemort himself as the attacker. They managed to escape after holding off Voldemort long enough for Albus Dumbledore to arrive and make Voldemort retreat. Shortly after that, they took a far less public role in the war.

Because the training dummies were illegal, they naturally found their way to the black market. Harry had seen one particularly shady looking trader with a few of them stuffed in a closet. He would make a stop there after finishing his trunk tour.

Compartment 5 was particularly baffling to Harry. Inside it felt like the sun was shining on his back, but when he looked up, all he saw was a stone roof. Around the room there were tables filled with pots. The edges of the room had a soil lining about a yard thick. 'Neville would have a field day just looking at this Herbology room,' Harry thought. He planned on getting Nevilles help in his adventure of countering Voldemort for his Herbology expertise. That way he wouldn't need to buy most potions ingredients.

Finally, the sixth compartment was his living space. It included three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a dining area/sitting room. In the dining area there was a large table that could easily fit fourteen people. The tabletop could also be flipped to form a pool table. Each bedroom features a queen sized bed, a night stand, and a large closet that was connected to the first compartment.

Harry didn't bother checking the two hidden compartments. All that was there was a blank, stone room. The first compartment would be made for rituals and, in a small side room, his four family grimoires would rest on a pedestal, one pedestal per grimoire. Considering rituals that were not overseen by goblins were illegal, the only legal part of the first hidden compartment would be the grimoire room.

The second compartment wasn't strictly illegal as long as it wasn't in use. Frowned upon, yes, but not illegal. After all, having a couple of prison cells is strange, but can be explained away as a strange kink. If there were prisoners in those cells… well that would be illegal. Harry knew the first victim of his prison would be Peter Pettigrew and therefore would learn how to carve a magic nullifying room to prevent a rodent's escape.

Both compartments would be built the muggle way, the first because using magic near a ritual circle could cause some unexpected effects and the second because he didn't want any prisoner to cast a windless finite (which was improbably, but not impossible to manage) to make their escape and make a plan to ambush him. The only reason he was confident Wormtail wouldn't be able to cancel his magic nullification rune was because he was weak in magical power and rather stupid without someone to tell him what to do. Even then, Harry would be leaving Pettigrew bound and stunned in his cage. Peter would either wake up from the stunning spell wearing off, or when the DMLE was ready to interrogate him.

Indeed, the only magic Harry would use to make his prison was Incendio and Glacius. Those two spells would help him make the bars of the cells unmovable by rapidly heating it up, in order to melt the metal, and then cooling it down, attaching the now sturdy bars to the ground. He would leave a hole just big enough for a human to fit through in order to get his prisoners in the cell. Then, using some spare metal he would weld a huge slab into the ground to cover the hole. When he finally handed then over to the ministry he would completely melt down the bars, move the liquid metal into a cast that would form new iron bars and then use Glacius on the cast to remake the bars. Then he would take the prisoner out of his trunk, obliviate them of any knowledge of his trunk, including the prison, and hand them over to the Ministry of Magic. It was a rather complex plan, but Harry was no engineer and his solution would work. It would be rather expensive though.

He left the trunk, shrunk it, put it in his pocket, and went about purchasing everything he needed.

 **AN: the following description of the uses of cauldrons was taken with permission from Concept101s Harry Potter and the Game.**

His first stop was at Potage's Cauldron Shop. In there he got an impromptu lesson on the uses of different cauldrons when he attempted to buy only pewter ones. Apparently, pewter cauldrons were meant to be used for basic, all around potions. Brass cauldrons would enhance a potions stability while silver cauldrons would enhance the speed of the brew. Copper cauldrons would make a potion more effective and, finally, gold cauldrons were used for potions that needed small amounts of gold to erode into the potion with each stir. Harry bought five if each kind and got twenty self-stirring ladles.

His next stop was to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary where he bought a large collection of ingredients. He stopped at Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment to pick up a telescope that he knew he would never use outside if Astronomy class. He spent a lengthy amount of time in Quality Quidditch Supplies, but only ended up buying a Nimbus 2000, a practice snitch that only flew around the owner's head, and a pair of seeker gloves. At Flourish & Blotts he purchased a couple more books, a quill set, an auto-inking ink pot, and a large stack of parchment. A bit tired with all of the shopping, Harry stopped at Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop.

It was at this point that Harry started getting paranoid over the thought of getting caught. He was sure that Florean had done a double take before his eyes widened at the sight of Harry's scar. This made him rush to the only place he could think of that would suit his needs. Borgin and Burkes. Harry wasn't sure if what he needed was legal or not, but he knew Borgin and Burkes sold things from both sides of that fence. Their vast collection would surely have some sort of concealing device.

It did. Twenty minutes later, Harry walked out with a new face thanks to a necklace that he now wore. While in Knockturn Alley, he decided to visit the place where he had seen the training dummies. He was sure he was ripped off in that sale, but found he didn't care. He was rich and the guy was taking a risk by selling something illegal to someone who had a far too generic looking face. The man also sold him a house elf named Twinky. The name made Harry chuckle despite his frustration with how expensive the house self was. He almost felt bad for Lucius Malfoy for how much money he had and would, as he planned on going through that event again, cost him. But then he remembered the graveyard during Voldemort's return and he quickly lost his pity.

Strutting back into Diagon Alley, Harry made his way to the Leaky Cauldron for some lunch, telling Tom the bartender that his parents were shopping in the alley and told him to order lunch while they finished up. He ate a hardy meal before tossing his payment on his table and rushing back into the alley before Tom could ask why his parents had not arrived.

Once more entering Diagon Alley, Harry prepares for his last stop, the stop he dreaded the most. Clothes shopping. He made to go to Madam Malkin's before he remembered Draco bragging at some point about some store named Twilfitt and Tattings. He figured that if he was going to try and make himself a prominent figure in wizarding society this time, he would go all out. And so he made his journey to the clothing store that he had never visited before.

It was there that Harry spent four agonizing hours trying on different clothes. He tried everything from formal robes to dueling robes. From nightwear to gloves. When the enthusiastic shop keeper began to hand Harry underwear to try on, he drew the line. He walked up to a shelf, grabbed a stack, and threw it on the counter.

"There," he said, "All done." The wizard selling him clothes seemed offended that Harry wouldn't be modeling underwear for him. Harry left the shop with his purchases thrown into his trunk's first compartment, confidently believing the wizard had been a gray pedophile. Frustrated and exhausted, Harry made his way back to the side alley he had checked his trunk out in, went through his steps of setting up and entering the trunk, and entered the apartment compartment. He stormed to his room, demanded some flannel pants from his closet and flipped onto the bed, quickly falling asleep.

 **AN: Hello all! As I'm sure you noticed, I uploaded two chapters today. This is because I meant to upload chapter 3 about a week ago (I know some of you are singing the song in your head). Anyways, I am planning on finally revealing Harry's familiar in chapter 6, so I recommend voting if you haven't already. As it stands the votes are: Snake – 5, Thunderbird – 5, Shadow Wolf – 7, and Phoenix – 3. A basilisk has also been written in 3 times. Please understand my reluctance to do a basilisk as Harry's familiar. I personally don't believe it makes sense. Nonetheless, should basilisk win, I guess I'll do it.**


	6. Chapter 6: Something Familiar

**AN: Before I start this chapter, I want to make a quick disclaimer. I will be using two names that have been taken from Kathryn Lasky. Additionally I will reiterate that I do not own anything within this fanfic. The characters, settings, and basic story line belong to Rowling and many of my additions are likely influenced by other writers.**

A week had passed and Harry still hadn't written his letter of explanation to Markus. He knew he had to, but he was still extremely reluctant to do so. He held stone respect for Markus after spending a significant amount of time at his shop and didn't want to bring the suffering that his information was sure to cause. But this time around, Harry couldn't afford to do anything BUT put the mission first. So he grabbed a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill and began to write.

Markus,

More than a week ago I paid a visit to your shop. I asked for a bit of information and was consequently thrown out. Now, I've respected your wishes for a while now and hope you have had time to cool down. I wish to explain my reasons for seeking such information, but know that this is not the sort of thing you should talk about over owl. I will be revisiting your shop tomorrow and I sincerely hope that you will hear me out then. If the information were only for myself, I would not persist, but the wizarding world's future rests on my shoulders and I can no longer afford to hold back.

-HJP

P.S. Don't shoot the messenger, it's not my owl and it would be rather awkward to explain why it never returned.

He sighed in malcontent, but was sure that this was the right thing to do. He folded up the parchment into thirds and put it into an envelope addressed to Mr. Markus Randell. Then he exited his bedroom, where he had written the letter, and climbed out of his trunk.

He walked to Eeylops Owl Emporium feeling two very conflicting emotions. One half of his brain was screaming in delight over the prospect of meeting his beloved owl again. The other was sobbing in anxiety over how Markus would receive his letter.

Eeylops had recently decided that they would rent owls out to individuals who either didn't want to use their own owl, or people who didn't own an owl. Harry at this moment would be in the former category. Sure, he didn't have Hedwig yet, but it was only a matter of time. Even time itself could not keep Harry and Hedwig separate forever.

Harry walked into Eeylops and immediately cringed at the rancid smell that was blasted into his face. Apparently, Eeylops hadn't heard of air freshening charms or runes. Harry thought that was rather foolish considering what their main product was.

He heard her before he could see her and he turned with a grin on his face. There, on the second highest shelf, perched like the queen that she was, sat Hedwig. Amber eyes met green and Harry felt his remaining sorrow over the loss of his old life melt away. Hedwig was such an important character in his life. She was his only friend and confident during the summers of his miserable existence at the Dursleys. She was loyal until the end. Harry felt a tear slip down his cheek as he remembered his first companion being outlined by that haunting green and spiraling out of the sky.

That moment was Harry's tipping point. Oh, he had felt the agony of guilt when Cedric had died and the thousand stabs of grief when Sirius had fallen through the veil. He remembered the horror of watching Dumbledore fall. None of that tipped him over the edge though. It was when Hedwig met he demise that harry through himself into his mission of vengeance. It was then that he committed himself to destroying his enemy. At that point, Harry had died. Not literally of course, but mentally and emotionally.

He tore his gaze away from Hedwig's, simultaneously freeing himself from his torrent of memories. He walked up to the counter and spoke to the store manager.

"Hello sir. I'd like to buy that snowy owl up there and to rent an owl for a one trip message."

The man apparently had been daydreaming a bit as he jumped, startled, when Harry spoke.

"Uh… yes. 2 galleons for the owl rental and 33 for the snowy owl. Harry scowled before responding in a slightly cold tone.

"What are you trying to pull here. We both know damn well that snowy owls sell for 15 galleons. I will only be paying you that 33 galleons if you provide a cage, a perch, and a years worth of owl treats." His eyes flashed the color of instant death and the manager froze before taking a deep gulp.

"Well of course good sir. That's precisely what I meant," he said trying to extract himself from the situation and to come out on top. Harry's snarl in response got the man moving. He pulled the caged owl off of its shelf, hauled a bag of owl treats onto the counter, plucked a perch from somewhere beneath, and he let out a shrill whistle. In response to his whistle, a small barn owl came soaring through a hole in the wall behind the counter. He turned to face Harry. "This is Soren. He will get your message to whoever you need with upmost speed."

Harry nodded and absentmindedly tossed the envelope addressed to Markus on the counter. He tossed the bag of owl treats into his now enlarged trunk, put the perch in his pocket, and walked away carrying his old companion with attentive care. Over his shoulder flew 35 galleons as payment that fell to the floor.

The manager frowned at the unspoken insults, but tied the envelope to the owl and kneeled onto the floor to pick up his gold. Fair was fair after all. He shouldn't have tried to scam the kid.

Outside of the store, Harry made his way back to the side alley that had hosted his trunk for the past week. Once there he knocked for his apartment and climbed down one handed, carefully carrying Hedwig with the other hand. Once he reached the floor, he set the cage down and opened it up to let Hedwig free. He then removed the perch from his pocket, applied a sticking charm onto one end, walked into his room, and attached it to a wall. Immediately, as though sensing her new throne, Hedwig flew into the room. She landed on the perch and elegantly covered her head with one wing before dozing off. Harry had forgotten how much she had slept in his first couple of years at Hogwarts, but figured her fatigue made sense. She was extremely young at this point and naturally needed more rest.

Harry spent the rest of the day reading a book entitled _Bring Them Down_. Looking over at the wall clock that adorned the wall to his left, Harry realized that it was about to become 10:30. Figuring he would need a decent amount of energy in case things went south with Markus the next day he set the book aside, dead-weighted into his bed, and fell asleep.

The sun blend throughout the sky emitting a scarlet hue around it when Harry reemerged from his trunk. It was late, he realized as the sun slowly sunk into the horizon. Perhaps he should have emerged earlier to meet Markus at Wands and Lore, but the nerve-wracking sense of fear had chained him down, confining him to his trunk. It was only through the creeping rust of necessity that Harry was able to snap his chains and walk towards a make or break scenario.

The day had currently passed to where most normal people settle down at home and eat their dinner. No one was on the streets of Diagon Alley. The same could be said about Knockturn Alley, though the serenity of the dark never reached it. The dark was where Knockturn Alley's inhabitants thrived.

Harry strolled through Knockturn Alley, palming his wand and activating the see through walls function on his contacts. He did not have any plans if being a victim of a mugging or being a witness of a deal gone wrong that needed to be disposed of. Harry had a strong belief about what was right and what was wrong, but he knew that no good would come from trying to intervene. He kept his head down and weaved through the twists and turns of the alley until he spotted a familiar sign.

He looked through the walls and saw a man standing in a corner of the shop by the door. It was clear that he had been there for a while as his shoulders were slumping and his eyes were sinking. Harry admired Markus' resilience in that regard, but unfortunately he knew that he would have to sink the man's hopes of stopping Harry from receiving his information.

Two flicks of Harry's wand was all it took. The first was a simple transfiguration spell that changed a portion of the wall into dust. The second shot a spell through the newly created hole that made the man crumple to the floor before his eyes could even widen in realization of what was happening. Harry then undid the transfiguration of the wall, walked to the door, opened it, and headed inside.

He looked around the shop trying to figure out if there were any traps thrown about. There wasn't. He walked over to Markus and reconfigured his contacts to see through the man's clothes. He loathed to do it, but he had to ensure that the man was unarmed before he revived him. It was a good thing too because Harry found no less than three wands and a wicked looking dagger.

Stripping the man of his weapons, Harry transfigured two chairs from the clumps of dust that layered the first room of the shop. He could've conjured the chairs, of course, but it would've taken way more energy and, consequently, would be far less comfortable. He sat down in the chair closest to him before flicking his wand towards Markus.

"Eneverate."

Markus' eyes shot open and he immediately reached inside his robes in a desperate search for a weapon. Realizing he was unarmed and completely at Harry's mercy, he let his shoulders slump in defeat and looked up at Harry with contempt in his eyes. Seeing the look, Harry decided it was time to make his case.

"Please sit down," he began with a calm voice and a gesture towards the other chair, "I only want to explain my reasons. Should you decide that they are unworthy, then I will leave. I have no interest in robbing you." He then took a rather large risk. "Here," he said, flipping one of the wands towards Markus. "Take this as a sign of good faith. The rest shall be returned when you agree, or when I leave the shop after you disagree."

Markus snatched his wand out of the air and immediately aimed it toward Harry, though he did not fire off a spell. Instead he stayed silent and Harry began to wonder how he should begin his explanation. Fate decided to answer that for him. His vision became filled with letters and those letters rearranged themselves into words and those words became a sentence from the overseer herself.

 _It is time for someone else to know. Such a burden cannot be carried alone._

Harry sighed before looking straight into Markus' eyes, becoming him into his innermost thoughts "Look at them," was all he said before his mind was assaulted with memories. It took only a second, but Markus' face seemed to age an eternity.

"Bloody fucking hell." He let his face fall into his hands as though trying to support a new found weight. Then be let out a scream of rage, thankfully having the foresight to activate the silencing wards around his shop. "GOD DAMN IT. THE ROTTEN BASTARD MADE 6 OF THEM. I'LL KILL HIM."

Throughout the man's rant Harry sat still with a stoic expression. He had no intention of trying to calm Markus down, lest he be caught in the crossfire between mind and emotion. Slowly Markus calmed down, his sea of rage being drained into a river, into a stream, before finally dying out. All that was left was a couple of tears that had slid down his face. "Come," he said at last, "We have some souls to kill." He walked into the back room, leaving Harry with a shocked expression. He had expected some sort of reaction to the whole time travel back to life thing, but in light of the other information Markus had received, it was understandable, he supposed.

He walked into the back of the shop and saw a sight that made his eyes widen in shock. Markus just had finished the incantation that would destroy any target and fired it at a wall.

"Bombarda Maxima."

The wall flew out shooting debris everywhere, but Markus only strode forward. He reached his hand through the wall and pulled out a book. He turned around and shoved it into Harry's hands. "Take it," he demanded, "but do not ask me to reread it. Some things are best only seen once." He paused as though deep in though before his voice came again. "Should you need anything in the coming fight, you have my support."

Harry nodded in gratitude, absentmindedly looking at the book's cover, his mind shifting through different thoughts. It was then that something occurred to him. "Say, Markus… would you happen to have any rats down in your little… shelter below?"

Markus gave him a questioning look, but answered all the same. "Yes, one of my… friends… likes them."

Harry, with a happy look in his eyes, made his way to the front room. "I should most like to take a look at them, maybe even buy one." Markus nodded with a confused expression and stepped in front of Harry. He crouched down and hit the floor, hard, revealing his hidden room. They both jumped down. While the security of Wands and Lore was decent, the room below was on a different level. No sound would leave the room and it would take a team of course breakers a couple of hours to break in. Because of this, and the nature of his coming statements, Harry decided to keep silent until they were securely inside.

Deciding that he could trust Markus now, Harry asked his question bluntly. "Would you like to assist me in breaking an innocent man out of Azkaban?"

Immediately following Harry's question, Markus' eyes widened in surprise. Quickly grasping his Occlumency shields and snapping them in place, he schooled his expression. "That depends, would he be worth the trouble it is to break him out?"

Harry shrugged at that inquiry. "To be honest, my reasons are mostly selfish. He's my godfather and I hate knowing that he is rotting away in Azkaban." He tapped his chin in thought. "He is a good dueler though," Harry stated remembering Sirius' fighting before his demise, "and he would likely have a ton of books that may help in the future."

Markus considered this for a bit. From what little he knew about Harry, he was certain that the boy would break out the prisoner with or without his help. It definitely wouldn't be good if Jarry got arrested in the attempt. The promised resources was also a convincing point and one could never have too many good duelers by their side. Still, it was extremely risky and he had worked hard to get where he was. He didn't want to throw all of that away by doing something so illegal. And he also didn't want the only two people actively searching for the horcruxes to be locked away, unable to complete their quest. But then Harry said something that made his decision easy.

"Nothing you do would actually be illegal. Additionally, I will only be guilty of giving the man the idea of how to escape. Furthermore, I plan on doing a large part of this through the DMLE Head, Amelia Bones. She has always been renowned for being fair and, once she is presented with the evidence, I'm sure she'll want to help somehow." Now that Markus knew that no matter what he was staying out of prison, and that Harry planned to get Bones' approval, he was certain about his answer.

"Alright, what do you need from me?"

Harry's eyes lit up with elation and he had to resist the urge to hug Markus. "Believe it or not, I actually am interested in buying a rat. You seem the person who is actually guilty is a rat animagus, who is currently residing with the Weasley family as their pet. When Hogwarts comes, their youngest boy, Ronald, will be attending. He will certainly be sorted into Gryffindor and I will ensure the same. The night following the feast, while everybody is sleeping off their food pregnancies, I will stun the animagus and replace it with the rat you sell me. My plan is to somehow get him to Madam Bones anonymously with a note saying to cast the animagus revealing spell on him. When I am certain that she has done so, I will send to more letters. The first will explain how she can help. The second will be sent to Sirius." Markus raised an eyebrow over who would be escaping Azkaban, but, trusting Harry, he remained silent. "I will ask Amelia to do a patrol of Azkaban and slide my letter to Sirius into his cell. This letter will give him motive and means to escape."

Markus had to hand it to the kid. Sure , there were many things that could go wrong and he hadn't figured out how he would do some of it, but it was a good plan. He nodded at Harry and walked over to a large cage filled with rats.

Harry thought hard and searched through the cage. The rat had to have a strong resemblance to Wormtail. It didn't have to be perfect, Ron never paid too much to small details like that, but it had to be similar. At last, he found one. When Markus told him, that he could have the rat for free Harry thanked him, set the rat on a table, and cast the cutting curse at the rats toes the same toe that Scabbers was missing. He then took a small cage that Markus offered him, tossed the rat in, and stored it in his trunk.

Thanking Markus, Harry spun on his heel and began to make his way back to the store and out into the alley. Something pulled him back though. Not in a physical sense, though it may have become that had he ignore it, but mentally. He stopped, suddenly, drawing a curious look from Markus. Harry closed his eyes and felt the air around him. Suddenly, he found himself walking a slow, mesmerized walk that made all of the sense in the world and none at all. All he knew was that it felt right.

At last, he stopped being pulled and, after a brief moment of time to ensure he was actually done, Harry opened his eyes. Before him rested a glass cage overwhelmed by darkness. Harry went towards the glass and looked inside. Then his arms were filled.

A small wolf had taken a dive from somewhere in the cage and reappeared in Harry's arms. It was a spectacular moment of magic, curious, but spectacular. It let out a small yip and sunk its teeth into Harry's arm. Immediately, Harry felt a pull from his core. Not one that would forcefully move him, but a pull all the same. It felt similar to when a car drove over a speed bump at a fast speed. The feeling when your stomach feels like its leaping up to your throat. And then it stopped and, while the pulling sensation had been extremely uncomfortable, Harry found himself missing it. Just like one would miss a hug from a loved one that was far too tight.

While he explained the feelings to himself, a wind picked up inside the building, something which was very strange considering no doors or windows were opened. Harry's hair seemed to flow through it, lifting up and waving to an unheard tune. When he looked down into the wolf's eyes, he felt a kindred feeling. As though he had known the wolf for all of his life and just hadn't met yet.

If Harry has been in front of a mirror he would notice that the shadows from his hair became more prominent and that his eyes seemed to speak of a deep connection. Had he been paying attention, he also would have notice the pure black coat of the wolf changing to an extremely dark gray on the wolf's forehead. Instead he wouldn't notice these things until later.

Behind them, Markus let out a gap, startling both Harry and the pup. The wind was startled too and it ran away in a scurry, so on leaving the building without a trace. At Harry's questioning glance, Markus broke out of his stupor and managed to explain.

"I've had that wolf for years. I bought it off some old chap who was the last of his line. That there is a shadow wolf. When I brought it back to my shop I had such high hopes of attaining some wonderful wand cores or an excellent coat of its shredded fur. But he never seemed to grow and he certainly never showed any signs of magic. To be honest, I was beginning to think that that old man decided to pull a prank on some gullible sod in his last remaining days. Bloody hell, I guess that he just had the familiar trait."

Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion. Markus, seeing his bewilderment, explained the term. "I guess I should begin this little lecture by saying all animals have magic within them, a lot of them just don't seem to show it." Harry hasn't known that little fact, but he didn't interrupt Markus to go deeper into the topic. "Anyway," Markus continued, some animals seem to be born with more than others, such is the way of nature, after all. But some are born with too much magic for their body to handle. Usually, the animal will die, slowly being poisoned by it's own magic. But in a rare occurrence, not unheard of, mind you, just rare, the birth of this animal will happen over a particularly strong magical ley line. Should this occur, the magic around that location will suck in on itself before lashing out, killing all living things within a 500 meter radius."

Harry felt a wave of sympathy for the wolf. Because wolves gave birth instead of laying eggs, the mother must have been among the living things that had their life cut short. Both he and Harry had their parents torn away from them because of magic itself. Harry's family was attacked because magic decided to sent a message through Sybill Trelawney.

Markus continued speaking, unaware of the inner turmoil Harry was feeling. "Even with that large of a magical discharge, there is still too much magic within the animal. The discharge's magic stays around however, keeping the animal from dying. It is then that the animals magic mutates to form the familiar trait, a trait that binds that animal to a witch or wizard out there who is very similar to them."

"Something that has many researchers baffled is that if a with or wizard tries to manipulate an animal into being born over a ley line by containing it to a limited space, the familiar trait fails to come out. Everything goes normally, the magic goes in and explodes out, but in those cases, everything, including the newborn, dies."

"Now if I had to guess, I'd say there are about a hundred magic folk, among the tens of thousands of mages, who have or had a familiar in the past 50 years. And four of them, including your live in Britain. One is a famous magizoologist by the name of Theodora Bell." Harry wondered if she had any relation to Katie Bell from the Gryffindor quidditch team. The other two are often thought of as the most powerful wizards of their generation. Care to guess who?" Harry didn't even bother answering. Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the light, and companion of his familiar, Fawkes the phoenix. Tom Riddle, who is more commonly known as Lord Voldemort and his familiar, Nagini the snake. **AN: I am aware that canon suggests that Voldemort made Nagini a horcrux after he was reborn. This does not necessarily mean that he didn't have her beforehand.**

About an hour later, Harry walked out of Wands and Lore with a book on familiars and a newly dubbed Faolan at his heels. Before he left, he asked Markus what he should feed his familiar and Markus had told him something that made Harry a bit nervous.

"A familiar feeds off of its companion's magic. Don't worry, it doesn't take any, it just seems to need to be near its owner to live. So long as you don't get separated from Faolan for too long, he will live as long as you do."

While it was nice that Faolan didn't need to eat, drink, or even breathe, Harry would prefer his familiar to need to do those rather than need to be near Harry at all times. Not only would it be bloody difficult to explain sometimes, it would also be very dangerous if Harry were to be taken captive. There was nothing he could do about it though, so Harry decided to put it in the back of his mind and move on.

Harry set up his trunk and climbed in to sleep the rest of the night away. He would drive into that book the next day. He also mentally noted that the only thing he had to do now was shop for some groceries. He would buy enough to last ten years. With magic the food would never go bad was his train of thought.

Harry fell into his bed and closed his eyes, immediately falling asleep. Faolan jumped onto the bed after him, circled three times, and curled up by Harry's feet. Neither took any notice to the scrap of parchment on Harry's nightstand. With frayed edges and the color of age, the parchment had two words written in a beautiful font.

 _You're Welcome._

 **AN: Okay folks, this is the last chapter in Diagon Alley. Up next, Harry will take his journey on the Hogwarts Express. Those of you who follow me as an author will also notice a new 'story' on my page. Do not worry. I am not starting something before I've really even gotten into this story. Instead, this new work will be little tidbits of information such as book excerpts and news paper articles. To the people who are growing bored and want more action: I'm getting there. The story will pick up really soon. I've got the basics of the story line brainstormed out and I'll let you in on a little secret. A lot of people are gonna die. Finally, I have a nice story to tell you guys. This guy just reviews to tell me Harry isn't a nickname for Hadrian. I send him a PM giving a counter argument that I believe was perfectly logical. Instead of talking it out like a normal person he just tells me I'm wrong, says I won't accept that I'm wrong, without even giving a rebuttal I might add, and then says the conversation is done and blocks me. Honestly, people these days. Can't even have a disagreement without blowing it out of proportions. Syk, if you're reading this, then I'm afraid that we're going to have to agree to disagree and if you can't accept that… well IDGAF really.**


	7. Chapter 7: Hogwarts is Coming

Had the building be empty, his footsteps would have echoed across the halls calling to be caught, but never being heard. Instead, the station was quite full with families offering goodbyes and friends joking with each other merrily. Above him was a ceiling that had weathered graffiti of explicates and names that meant nothing to anyone, but the artist. Harry just walked past all of this, letting the voices become a droning mumble to his ears.

Platform 6, platform 7, platform 8, and platform 9, he passed until he stopped in front of a seemingly solid brick wall. Briefly, he wondered what would happen if a muggle decided to lean bag against the doorway to every child's magical adventure. He chuckled at the thought. No harm would be done really, there were obliviators subtly placed around the station to take care of that. It would only be a spectacle that you laughed at in the moment, becoming friends with everyone around, if only for a second. It would be forgotten in time, maybe a day, maybe a week, and would never be brought up again until you find yourself lounging in an arm chair, a cup of tea in your hand, telling funny stories of your childhood to the grandchildren gathered around your feet. It was quite a lovely thought, but, just like the memory of such a spectacle, it would disappear rather quickly.

This time around, Harry arrived to the station early, intent on finding a compartment with companionable people instead of being stuck with the rejects and the jerks. He allowed his kind to drift and pondered about just how long Mrs. Weasley would be shouting about Muggles and Platform 9 ¾. How long until the obliviators would intervene and give her a lecture on the Statue of Secrecy? While he was resistant to the idea of being betrayed by those he'd loved in his previous life, even he could not deny that there was no way Mrs. Weasley had yelled those words without some sort of reason. He justified it to himself, of course, thinking that Dumbledore had told her that Harry would be a bit lost after he realized that Hagrid never gave the young boy directions and Mrs. Weasley, being her usual kind self, decided to help Harry out. It was a perfectly plausible reason for a person in denial.

Harry confidently strolled through the barrier, with Faolan at his heels, causing a couple of muggles to shake their head in disbelief at the sight and to put it a way as a brief moment of delirium, something that they would plan to tell their doctors, but knew, somewhere deep in the back of their kind, that they never would.

Beyond the gateway, Harry let out a small chuckle over the struggle of children and parents alike on this one hectic day. The children, of course, were trying to dodge their mother's hugs and kisses as they dodged the tears that flooded down her face. They would eventually free themselves from the Azkaban of parenthood and struggle their way onto the train, hauling their trunk behind them. Harry had never felt so grateful to own his specialty trunk than in that moment. The parents would shout after their children, pleading and demanding for letters every day, but resigning themselves to understanding that everyday would become once a month in their children's minds.

Harry allowed himself a brief pause while he took in the sights, sounds, and smells of the foyer to his haven away from Privet Drive in his previous life. At the same time he looked around, seeing a couple of familiar faces who he would have to start over with. He saw Oliver Wood with a broomstick slung over his shoulder like a musket. He caught a glance of bushy hair that could only belong to Hermione. Despite Fate's warnings, Harry was extremely eager to meet with his old friends. He quickly chased after her, nearly tripping over the foot of the doorway as he scrambled his way up. He followed her to a compartment that she slid open and, right before she could slam it shut, Harry put his foot in, preventing the door from closing.

"Sorry," he panted while scrambling for a reason for his intrusion, "I was just looking to sit with some other first years and you looked like you were new here too." He then spotted a familiar looking chubby boy who's hands shook violently in what Harry knew was nervousness. "Oh, I apologize, I didn't see you there," he addressed Neville before tipping his head slightly. "I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Lord Hadrian James Potter, lord of the houses Potter, Peverell, and Gryffindor, heir of the house of Black." He had decided the day before that the only surname he would include in casual settings was 'Potter'. During his introduction, Neville stood up, still shaky. His palms were glistening with the see-through juice of nerves. He recoiled, as if slapped, when Harry announced his final title, though he admirably stayed rooted to where he stood.

"Greetings, Lord Potter," he intoned. Harry wondered how many times his grandmother had beaten such etiquette into the Longbottom heir's head. "I am Heir Neville Franklin Longbottom, heir of the house of Longbottom.

Harry schooled his expression to look surprised and made it change into realization with a considerable amount of effort to perfect his facial acting. "Well, Heir Longbottom, as Lord Potter I greet you as my brother for where a Potter charges into battle, a Longbottom has his back. As the heir Black, however, I offer my apologies. I am sure the current Lord Black will disown her for bringing shame upon our family for such a needless attack." At the end of his little speech, Harry held out his hand in the universal sign if friendship. Neville considered it for a moment, before meeting the hand with his own, giving a light shake. "Well then, my friend, Heir Longbottom, you may call me Harry." All of these words felt strange to Harry's tongue and, though he understood the reason for them after reading several books, he still allowed his mind's voice to guide him in these scenarios.

"A-and you may call me Neville," the heir of Longbottom stuttered after giving a slightly deeper nod to Harry. While Harry was the lord of several houses, none of them were of greater rank than the house of Longbottom. Two of them were equal, yes, but in the end quantity didn't outweigh quality. The only reason Neville's nod was deeper than Harry's was because he was merely an heir instead of a lord. It was a technicality really. The only reason Harry was a lord at his age was because he was the last of his line. And even though he was a lord, he couldn't vote on the Wizengamot until he was of age or emancipated. "P-perhaps we should s-stop the formalities t-to give our fellow comp-partment member a b-break."

Harry looked over at Hermione in surprise and noticed her jaw had dropped. Her face wore a look as though she were offended by the exchange she had just witnessed. "Of course." Harry confirmed Neville's request. He sat down and Faolan, who had remained behind him since he walked onto the train, jumped onto his lap and made himself comfortable.

Keeping up the façade of ignorance, Harry turned his body slightly to face Hermione as he greeted her. "As I said to Neville, my name is Lord Hadrian James Potter, though my friends call me Harry. I hope to count you amongst their ranks in the future. May I ask what your name is." He offered his hand with his palm up.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said with a matter-of-fact tone and the bushy haired girl moved her hand to his with the intent of shaking it.

Harry, however, did not intend to shake it. Instead, he raised her knuckles to his lips and gave the air above them a slight kiss. According to one of the books he read, it was presumptuous to actually kiss a woman's knuckles, but an insult to not make the gesture. This confused him to no end, but he was hardly the rules' creator. He only followed them.

Hermione's cheeks turned pink as she became flustered by his actions. "What is all of this? We are hardly in the 18th century anymore. And what about the lord bit."

"Well Miss Granger, while we are no longer in the 18th century, we people of Magical Britain believe that some niceties shouldn't have been lost in time." Harry actually agreed with that. He may not necessarily understand the reason behind some customs, but it never hurt to show respect. "To kiss a woman's hand is a sign of respect. As was the nod I gave to Neville and the one I received in return."

"Then why didn't he kiss my hand?" Hermione asked this question, her curiosity not allowing the matter to sit idle, even if she was slightly uncomfortable with the whole thing.

"Well, technically I didn't have to kiss your hand. Am I right in assuming you are muggleborn?" At Hermione's nod, Harry continued, "Well then technically you are considered beneath both me and Neville in stature."

"That's hardly right. Have you never heard of equality."

"I never said it was right, though it is to a degree. Our families have worked hard to gain the respect and prestige over the centuries that they have been around. Surely you don't believe that all of that should be forgotten and considered nothing just because someone new is entering our world." Harry's eyes locked with hers and gained a fierce, cold glare. "Unfortunately, you will find that some people will mistake the right to receive respect with the right to disrespect others. They will taunt and ridicule people like you just because you are new to our world. That, I think, is foolish. All of our families had to begin somewhere and people like you are simply the start of your own family legacy."

Hermione didn't look convinced, but she decided to let the matter drop at the moment. "And that whole 'lord' thing?"

"Well, after a family has been around for five generations, the eldest male of the fifth generation will gain the title of 'Lord' at their majority. That does not mean they are equal to every other lord though. There are a few other things that are necessary to be on equal standings. On the birth of a child of the tenth generation, a house will receive the title of 'Ancient'. After ten more generations, 'Ancient' becomes 'Most Ancient'. Another thing to take into consideration is the fact that should a family move into another country they will have to start from the bottom of the social ladder. An example off of the top of my head is the Malfoy family. The family has been around for a bout 25 generations now, but because they moved to Britain 12 generations ago, they are merely the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask about the title of 'Noble', but Harry beat her to the punch. Now, a Most Ancient house isn't the top of the social ladder. That goes to families that are Most Ancient and Most Noble, something which the Potter, Black, and Longbottom families are." He punctuated the third name by jerking his head towards Neville. "To receive the title of 'Noble', someone in the family must do a great service for their wizarding community, or earn an Order of Merlin anywhere in the world. For example, the house of Lockhart has only been around for six generations, but, thanks to Gilderoy Lockhart's recent acquisition of an Order of Merlin third class, the family is now called the Noble House of Lockhart." Harry loathed to admit the man had an Order of Merlin, but it was a simple fact and there was nothing he could do about it. "The Malfoy family gained the title 'Noble' when the current Lord Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, made a considerably large donation to Saint Mungo's."

Harry took a breath before continuing his explanation. "Should a family have three different members who fit into that category, however, they will gain the title 'Most Noble'. After that, while any other contributions are appreciated, they won't give you a better status. For example, I think the House of Potter has earned about ten Order of Merlins by now, including the recent ones received by my parents." He let his chest puff out in pride over his parent's achievement, though it saddened him that they weren't alive to receive it. "In addition, we have a tradition of donating 500,000 galleons every ten years."

The compartment door slid open to reveal a red-haired first year that Harry remembered from the DA. Her name was Susan Bones. Before he could stand up to greet her, Harry saw something flying past his face. Instinctually, he swung his hand into the air and caught it like it was a snitch. He brought his hand back down and inspected his recent captive. In his hand was a road.

"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed happily. "Thanks Harry. He always tries to run away." His tone made the whole deal sound like Harry had just secured their friendship through his swift reflexes. He had just changed something from his previous experience at Hogwarts. A minor thing, no doubt, but a change all the same. This time, Hermione and Neville wouldn't go searching up the train, interrupting compartment after compartment in their desperate search for the maniacal escape artist named Trevor.

"No problem. Things try to escape me all the time… though they're usually thoughts… or socks. I never can figure out where they get off to." He said this as a joke, but it was true. One would think that with a trunk as organized as his, nothing would ever go missing. Somehow, though, he was already down to only ten pairs of matching socks. Oh well… matching socks were out if date anyways. Harry wondered if he could start a new fashion craze just by wearing mismatched socks. It was unlikely, but should it come to be, Dobby would be the most stylized house elf out there. He felt a momentary wave of sadness as he realized his loyal friend was still enslaved by the Malfoys.

The compartment chuckled lightly at his joke, but silence soon descended. Harry decided that it was time to introduce himself to Susan. "Greetings, milady. I am Lord Hadrian James Potter, lord of the houses Potter, Peverell, and Gryffindor, heir to the house of Black." He offered his hand as he had with Hermione.

Instead of the customary response, Susan Bones just started at Harry in shock. 'No one man should have all that power,' she thought, but then she remembered how much power Dumbledore had and figured that it wasn't as abnormal as she thought. She offered her hand to his, palm down, fingers lightly curled.

"Heiress Susan Bones of the house of Bones. It is a pleasure to meet you milord." She said as he kissed the air above her knuckles. And it was, after all, he seemed polite and there was the small fact that he killed the Dark Lord, the same dark lord who killed her parents. She shuddered at the memories that came to the front of her mind.

She had only recently been born, so naturally she couldn't remember the details, but she had seen the pictures. She was nine years old when she asked and thought that since she was a big girl, she could handle anything life through at her. She approached her aunt and asked to see the scene. Her aunt was never one to sugar coat anything and had a motto that it was always best to know rather than to not. Even with such a motto, Amelia Bones gave Susan one opportunity to back out. She didn't. How she wished she did, oh, how she wished, but she was stubborn and young, a dangerous combination.

The pictures in the file contained gore that haunted her eyes every time she closed them. The entry hall to the manor she had lived in all her life looked nothing like it did in her memory. It was a mess, like a tornado carried an earthquake right on through. Instead of the portraits that lined it now, the entry hall was decorated with blood and charred spell residue, still smoking from a battle that happened hours before. The polished floors were rugged and uneven with jagged cracks and small bowls littered around. That was only the first picture. It did not include a view of what was above and Susan wasn't sure she wanted to know anyway.

It was the next picture that haunted her. In the ballroom where she danced at gatherings and practiced alone, there hung a single chandelier. Susan always loved that chandelier. It was beautiful, she thought. But apparently it wasn't beautiful enough for the Death Eaters because in the picture the chandelier acquired some new ornaments. Her parents hung by their own intestines there with their arm reaching out like they wanted to hold hands as they met their demise. But they could not, for they were dead and even if they weren't, the right hand of her father and the left of her mother were chopped off, tearing away the final wishes of a couple in love who had nearly lost everything.

Lightly shaking her head to rid her mind of such memories, Susan went through the proper greetings with Neville before sitting down and looking around at the compartment's inhabitants. The wizarding world had been, or would be, cruel to all of them, she realized. One of them would certainly be bullied for her heritage, regardless of any success she may have. Two of them were orphans, victims, but survivors of the previous war. The last suffered the most in her opinion. Though he technically wasn't an orphan, he was as good as one with his parents suffering from insanity. But he would never receive the peace of knowing that they were freed from the mortal realm.

"Hello all," she said, breaking the slight silence, "Please continue as you were, I'm sure I can jump in at some point."

And so, Harry continued his explanation. "Now, our government is mostly divided into two parts. We have the Ministry of Magic, who make sure to enforce the laws and the Wizengamot, who vote on laws. The Wizengamot also meets every two years to vote on who should become Minister of Magic. Once someone is voted in, they chose the heads of each department, though usually they keep the previous heads in position. The department heads and the minister gain a seat on the Wizengamot."

Hermione processed the information and realized that Harry didn't say how members of the Wizengamot were selected. She asked Harry about that.

"Well, once a house gains the title of 'Ancient' they are eligible to be added to the Wizengamot. The oldest, surviving 100 houses have a position on the Wizengamot. Ties are prevented because the number of Ministry officials is odd. Should a family name die out, the next oldest family will take their seat. If there are no Ancient houses left to take a seat on the Wizengamot, then the seat will remain empty until a house has been around long enough to replace it. Thankfully, this hasn't been a problem since 1643, though, with the two back to back wizarding wars, we did get awfully close to running into that problem."

"But surely everyone should get a say on who's on the Wizengamot. The entire system seems so corrupt." As if on queue, Draco Malfoy slid open the compartment door.

"Trust a mudblood to think that the ancient ways if our law need to be changed," he sneered.

Harry stood up to intervene before the situation got out of hand. "Now, now. It isn't very polite to insult someone before introducing yourself, particularly when you are in the presence of those who are higher ranked."

Draco looked towards Harry with an angry glint in his eye. "Don't you know who I am? I am Draco Malfoy, heir to the houses of Malfoy and Black. Who are you to say you are better than me?"

Harry made a show of looking at Draco's hand, focusing on the single ring that rested on his finger. "Hmm," he began, "I do believe that you are being rather presumptuous, Heir Malfoy. You only seem to have the heir ring if the house of Malfoy."

Draco sneered at Harry. "A minor mistake that will soon be rectified," he claimed.

Harry let out a laugh, confusing Draco. The Malfoy heir let out a growl from the back if his throat and his eyes hardened in anger. But before he could tear Harry to pieces, he caught sight of four rings on Harry's hand. One ring in particular caught his eye. "Somehow I doubt that," Harry replied.

"Bu-but I was next in line. I have the strongest claim."

"Well I suppose you did. There's just one problem. You see my godfather went through the guardian's ritual with me as soon as it was safe to do so." Harry couldn't be entirely sure about this fact, but it was his only theory that made sense after excessive reading. "Normally that would only give me a minor claim, but in conjunction with the Black blood running through my veins from my paternal grandmother, I now have the strongest claim."

The guardian's ritual was used commonly in the early 18th century, but slowly went out of use. The ritual wasn't lost in time, but, because of the inner-house conflicts that sometimes arose, people generally avoided using it. Only the most loyal of people would do the ritual in current times unless they were the very last person of their line.

Families that are old are often times horrified at the very notion of giving away their family magic and secrets to another family. But they also downright refused to let that magic and their secrets die out. So, when a family has fallen down to the last of their line, that person usually adopted a minor, generally of pure blood, using the guardian's ritual.

Once the ritual is performed, the minor (for some reason the ritual only worked if the guardian was of age and doing it to a minor) would have a change in their DNA. This change would add one percent of the guardian's genes into every strand of DNA, thus giving the minor a claim to that family's legacy. Technically, Harry should have had some physical changes because of the new DNA, but, due to him already having a decent percentage of Black blood in him, there wasn't really any noticeable change.

If Harry didn't have Black blood in him already, Draco would still be heir to the family. But Harry did have Black blood in him and, what should have been a minor change in the family line, was actually a rather large change. Harry, who should have been 7th or 8th in line, was boosted to 2nd, behind only Sirius.

Draco frowned at the newly acquired information, but knew that there was nothing he could do about it. He could complain, of course, but the heir ring was already on Harry's finger and the family magic had already dubbed him the heir. Even if Draco, or his father, took the case to the Wizengamot and it was ruled that Harry shouldn't be heir, the family magic would stubbornly cling to its decision.

Powerless and off guard, Draco did the only thing he could do. He groveled. "I'm sorry for being so presumptuous my lord. I was unfortunately uninformed in the matter." He held out his hand. "I hope we can start fresh. Greetings Lord Potter, I am Heir Malfoy."

Harry could have done a great many things in retribution for Draco's unintentional slight, but it simply wasn't in his nature and, while he may hold a serious grudge against the Malfoy scion from his precious life, he took to heart Fate's advice about making an ally from a potential threat. He shook the blond first year's hand. "Of course."

Draco, having maneuvered himself out of a tight spot, actually acted like a Slytherin for once and retreated back to his own compartment after a hasty goodbye. While Harry and Draco weren't friends by any means, they weren't enemies either.

'Though if he's anything like he was in the previous timeline, that won't last for long,' Harry thought.

Throughout the entire interaction, Hermione thought about what she had learned. 'Why was none of this information available in books. Those purebloods must be hiding the information to make themselves seem smarter,' she though with her 'logic' spiraling out of control. 'And if they're hiding stuff like this, they must be hiding things like certain magics too.' From that moment on, Hermione gained an intense distrust for anyone who followed, or appeared to follow, magical etiquette. It didn't occur to her even once that she had simply been perusing the wrong section of Flourish and Blott's in her siege for knowledge.

After hours and hours of restless naps, the train finally squealed to a stop. While Harry could understand how both flooing, because someone would almost certainly end up lost and several others would collide with each other, and apparating, because some students didn't have anyone to apparate them, he could not figure out why the Ministry didn't authorize the usage of portkeys to teleport the students to a place closer to Hogwarts like Hogsmeade. There was an entire department dedicated to magical transportation, so the Ministry really should put them to work.

For a second he thought that the purebloods would block a change to the transportation system from King's Cross to Hogwarts, but he quickly disabused himself of that notion. Those same purebloods looked down on muggles. Surely they would prefer to use magical means of transportation over a muggle machine.

Then, Harry wondered how the students got to Hogwarts before trains were invented. Why was that method dismissed?

Instead of using some instantaneous mode of travel, though, the students had to ride on the Hogwarts Express waiting hours of their lives. Instead of spending the day learning, they would spend it shifting in their uncomfortable seats, only arriving in time for the sporting feast. Sure, it wasn't something Harry was inclined to spend time and resources working on fixing, but it was certainly still annoying.

The four occupants of the compartment filed out and joined the long, long line of students that were waiting to flood off of the express. The air smelled stale and had a distinct stench of body odor and too much perfume. In other words, the normal aroma of hundreds of teenagers who spent hours in confined spaces.

"First years over 'ere," a load voice boomed. The sound came from an enormous man with messy hair both on his head and face. The man was loud, obnoxious, terrible at keeping secrets, and had no sense of danger, but he was also kind and generous (though sometimes it was best to decline his generosity in favor of keeping your teeth) and the first friend Harry ever had.

Hagrid waved a lantern above his head and his right hand firmly clutched his pink umbrella which held the remnants of his snapped wand. "First years over 'ere," he repeated walking towards the Great Lake. He gestured towards the armada of boats that seemed to bob to their own, unheard music. Each boat had two benches that were parallel to each other. "No more than four to a boat."

Harry led the charge to the boat farthest away from where the line of students marched. Followed by Neville, Susan, and a hesitant Hermione, he sat down in the boat. Neville was the first to join him, sitting directly across from him. Susan followed and sat next to Harry.

As Hermione made to join them on the boat, she was shocked into the ground by a rather enthusiastic redhead. Drunk on the unfounded notion of fame and riches, Ronald Weasley let what minimal manners he had fly out the window as he forcefully charged his way into Harry's boat.

It was at this moment that Hermione let go of any good will to those who followed the pureblood doctrine. Because she already knew that the three who got in the boat first were from influential families, she assumed that the redhead recognized them because he too was from an influential, pureblooded family. Later she would learn she was half right. The Weasleys were certainly a pureblood family, but they had little to no influence. Their only voice in the ministry was the co-head of an unappreciated department. She briskly picked herself up and stomped her way to another boat before Harry could say anything.

Seeing her leave, he looked at Ron with death colored fury in his eyes. "What's your damage!" he cried.

Despite his furious tone, Ron remained aloof. "It is only proper that you meet your best mate," he replied.

For a moment, Harry hesitated, thinking that somehow Ron knew of his previous life. Then he remembered that Ron was rather presumptuous and he shook that thought from his mind. "We haven't even met, how could you possibly be my best mate," he snarled.

"But we just did meet…" Ron replied stupidly.

Harry face-palmed internally. "'Just' being the key word. You know nothing about me." He didn't bother lying and saying that he new nothing about Ron. There was no point.

"Sure I do. You defeated You-Know-Who as a baby, then were picked up by Dumbledore and trained by him to be the next leader of the light. You conquered dragons and even rode a unicorn during your training."

Technically, Harry did conquer a dragon, though it was not under Dumbledore's tutelage. And he certainly had never rode a unicorn. Didn't Ron know that only virgin girls could approach them?

"You just proved my point. Except for the Voldemort bit," everyone in the immediate vicinity flinched, "none of that was true." Whispers traveled loudly amongst the student population that was sailing across the lake. "You most certainly are not my best mate at the moment and you are slowly running yourself out of the way to getting the position." While a part of Harry longed to joke around with his previous best mate, another part was astonished that he ever even formed a relationship with the obnoxious boy.

Before Ron could say anything else, Harry turned to Neville. "So, Neville, what class are you most looking forward to?"

"H-herbology," came the reply. "I'm not good at much else. Gran thought I was a squib for the longest time."

"Well how do you know you're not good at anything else? You can't know until you've tried. I'm sure you'll be great."

Ron tried to insert himself in the conversation. "My family has a squib somewhere in it. He's an accountant. If you are a squib I'm sure he could help you out," he said, trying to be helpful.

Harry shot him a glare. "He's not a squib. He wouldn't be at Hogwarts otherwise."

Susan put her two cents in. "His parents were bloody good aurors in their day. There's no way you don't have at least some of their talent."

They continued to encourage Neville throughout the journey across the lake. They only stopped when Hagrid's bellow said, "Mind yer 'eads." Hagrid was the only person tall enough to need to duck, but it was the thought that counted.

At last, Hogwarts was revealed. It seemed to shine in the moonlight, each brick emitting it's own magic. The stronghold of anyone in need for generations, Hogwarts was a symbol for hope even in the darkest of times. The students let out an appreciative murmur at the sight. They had finally arrived.

 **AN: So we're finally at Hogwarts. I'm sure the more detail oriented readers will have noticed that some things were not described the same way as they were in canon. This will be happening throughout the story because, if I'm being honest, I can't be bothered to scrape out every last detail of Harry Potter canon. Such details are, for the most part, irrelevant to the plot and the story will move along much quicker if I'm not stressing out over what time Harry had transfiguration class or stuff similar to that. Additionally, some people will notice that Faolan and Hedwig aren't mentioned much in this chapter. This chapter was mainly written to establish relationships with other students and, while a shadow wolf is pretty cool, it would be rather annoying to write 'wicked' or other variants of the word a thousand times. Okay, finally, I will be releasing a 'chapter in IDAFT notes today as well. I will explain more there, but basically it will be about who's on what side in the coming war. Please go check it out.**


	8. Chapter 8: Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts

When Hogwarts finally came into sight, there was barely any more water for the boat to cross. The students began to murmur in excitement and even Faolan seemed to get restless. Hedwig, he had decided, could remain in his trunk home, free to fly around. He was sure she would prefer that to he cage. Unlike many other first years, Harry's trunk was shrunk down and his in his pocket.

Draco Malfoy surely had a trunk similar to Harry's, at least with a shrinking and weightlessness feature and Harry couldn't remember seeing Neville's trunk above the compartment, though, to be fair, he wasn't really looking. Other, less wealthy first years had basic trunks which would be left on the train for house elves to collect. Their trunks would be found at the foot of their bed when they finally made their way into their dorms.

As the boat wobbled to a stop at the Great Lake's edge, Harry began to stand. He was the first human passenger to leave the boat – Faolan having leaped out of the boat and onto the shore well before the boat came to a stop and was followed by Ron who nearly toppled poor Neville out of the boat. When he had regained his balance, Neville shakily made his way out to join them. He stopped once he was out of the boat, unlike the other two boys, and offered his hand to Susan, who blushed and accepted his assistance out of the boat.

Harry's eyes widened as he realized his forgetfulness in basic etiquette. "I apologize milady. It seems that in the excitement of finally arriving at Hogwarts I have forgotten how to act." Susan just waved off his apology with a flick of her wrist.

They joined the other students and made their way towards the front of the crowd. There, Harry saw Hermione and he walked over to apologize for Ron's behavior. "I'm sorry that you were shoved down earlier. I shouldn't be the one apologizing, really, but I get the feeling that he won't, so, like I said, I'm sorry. Despite what he may say, he most certainly is not my best mate."

Hermione nodded like she was accepting his apology, but the fact that she turned around and walked away instead of talking clued Harry into the idea that the apology hadn't been received as well as he hoped. 'Oh well,' he mused, 'I have 7 years of Hogwarts to renew my relationship with her. It's better not to rush I suppose'

The group of students followed Hagrid into the halls of Hogwarts before he handed them off to Professor McGonagall. The Professor looked around, checking out each of the new students. It was then that Faolan, smelling feline smells on McGonagall, let out a bark. Her sharp gaze snapped towards him and then to Harry. "Mr. Potter. The letter specifically stated that students were allowed an owl, a cat, or a toad and I am almost positive that that animal is none of the three. Would you please explain?"

"I don't know what I'm meant to explain," Harry said cheekily, "Do you want me to confirm that your eyes are working? Because they are."

McGonagall let out a sigh, remembering hearing a similar statement from a young boy who looked exactly like Harry sans the eyes. "No, Mr. Potter, I am not asking if my eyes are working. I'm asking why you brought an animal not permitted at Hogwarts."

"Oh," Harry said, acting like he was just beginning to understand. Around him the first years were snickering. Whether it was at him, McGonagall, or the entire situation, Harry did not know. "Well I should think it rather simple. The letter only says that students may bring those animals. It doesn't say that they may not bring any others."

"It was implied, Mr. Potter."

"Was it? Well I suppose I better go return all of these extra books I have, seeing as it was implied that I should bring only the listed items."

McGonagall shook her head in frustration. She loved a bit of personality in her students, but sometimes they could be so aggravating. "No, Mr. Potter, that will not be necessary. You may keep your books, but Hogwarts does not permit students owning…" she paused and looked at the animal, blanching when she noticed that it wasn't a domesticated dog. "Hogwarts most certainly doesn't allow wolves on its premises."

"Does it allow rats?"

"Yes."

"But that wasn't on the list." Harry offered that statement. At this point he was doing this less for play and more because he didn't really want it known that he had a familiar. He was famous enough already, he didn't need people adding more to his image. It was in vain though.

"Mr. Potter, I cannot allow you to bring that wolf any further. That is final."

Harry groaned, but knew he had to pull out his ace card. "It would probably be best not to break the law in your attempts to enforce a lesser one, Professor."

McGonagall was taken aback by this sudden turn in events. It was rare that she had to ask a student about something other than what they had done or what they were like, but she could not figure out what law she was supposedly breaking.

"Well, Professor, it is illegal to attempt to separate a familiar from its companion. I believe the punishment for succeeding is the equivalent to that of murder."

The professor whipped out her wand and fired a quick spell at Faolan. Her speed left several of the students in awe. Harry, who had seen her fight just before his death, was unsurprised. He did raise an eyebrow though. Pulling on some of Voldemort's knowledge, he said, "It is also illegal to cast upon someone's pet without permission or, in an auror's case, probable cause. I suppose it wouldn't be a good start to the school year to get a teacher arrested, so I won't be pushing the matter.

Mcgonagall blushed at her Gryffindor rashness, but nodded her head in acknowledgment. Then she gestured towards a purple-glowing Faolan. "The spell confirms your statement Mr. Potter, but do try to ensure that your familiar doesn't interfere with your learning," she said. Harry nodded and she took a step back.

Like Harry remembered, she gave her little speech to the new students. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Because it had been nearly eight years now since Harry last heard this opening speech, he paid attention all the way through. He, rather admirably in his opinion, held back a laugh over the whole 'family' bit.

True, houses would be more likely to take a housemates side over anyone else's in a manner reminiscent of a family, but the majority of students only learned about half of their house's name. Additionally, should am irrational fear come around, instead of huddling together, protecting the vulnerable as a family should, Hogwarts house mates were completely willing to throw another person under the bus if they thought it would make them safe, even if their thought process was completely irrational. Sure, there were notable exceptions, like when a good friend lied to cover another. But calling the entire house a family was like calling all purebloods and halfbloods a family. From an outside perspective it was true, but inside it was no such thing.

Additionally, the spending free time in the house common room drew a stare from Harry. Occasionally, a couple of housemates would get together to play _Exploding Snap_ and _Gobstones_ , in the common room, but usually free time was spent on the quidditch pitch, in one of the courtyards, in the library, on the grounds, in an abandoned classroom and, for those who knew where to look, in the kitchens or the Room of Requirements.

The house common room was more likely to be used for group projects, house meetings, parties, and, unfortunately, public displays of too much affection. With abilities like the warming and cooling charms, the impervious charm, and other nifty things, there really wasn't a reason to stay in your house common room or dorm.

The house points system was laughable as well. There was a reason for Slytherin being the winners of the house cup for so long now. A certain potions professor saw to that. Slytherins would gain points for not blowing up their potion while Hufflepuffs would lose points for the same thing. Slytherins would gain points for nice posture while Ravenclaws would lose points for reciting the text book. Best of all, Slytherins would gain points for intelligent thinking in sabotage, while Gryffindors would lose points for exploding potions (thanks to such sabotage), not knowing answers that would were at least two years above their level and, Harry's personal favorite, for breathing too loudly.

Now, he wasn't so biased as to say that other teachers didn't play favorites. It was a natural human instinct after all. He remembered getting points for 'sheer, dumb luck' in his first life's first year. But Snape didn't even make an effort to seem unoppinionated. In fact, Harry could scarcely remember Snape offering a Gryffindor some points. He wasn't sure the man ever did.

Some people, like Dumbledore, would argue that Snape did it only to maintain his cover as a loyal death eater, but Voldemort, while admittedly obsessed about Hogwarts, surely didn't care about who won the house cup. Such trivial things were beneath him and any Death Eater of the Inner Circle. Harry could almost imagine Draco running into the Dark Lord's throne room, complaining that Snape had lost Slytherin the house cup. He doubted that Voldemort would kill the Malfoy scion for such an act, but a Crucio or two would certainly be used for wasting his time.

McGonagall re-entered the Great Hall and the first years began chattering amongst themselves about how they were going to be sorted. Harry let out a little chuckle about Ron's claim of having to wrestle a troll. Fred and George certainly had a good sense of humor, if a little wicked. At last, the doors opened and the anxious students were ushered in by their transfiguration professor.

Around him, the students began to shout at each other excitedly, in voices that probably sounded like whispers to them. With a stern glance, though, McGonagall brought them all to a hush and began calling up names to be sorted. At some point during the initial chaos of nerves and excitement exhibited by the first years, Faolan slunk off into a dark corner of the Great Hall. While his familiar wouldn't be a secret at Hogwarts, he wanted to avoid as much attention as possible, an idea that seemed to appeal to Faolan.

The sorting went exactly as Harry remembered it. Susan went to Hufflepuff, Hermione and Neville to Gryffindor, Draco to Slytherin. At last it was his turn and, as expected, the entire room fell silent. Slowly people began to whisper to each other with not-so-subtle glances and pointed fingers directed at him. A couple of people angled their bodies around trying desperately to get a glimpse of his famous scar. But it had all but faded at this point, so there wasn't much to see.

His sorting was certainly one that people would remember for decades to come, though not because of his fame. When the Sorting Hat was placed upon his head it shouted out. But instead of yelling out a house, it yelled out "What The F-", before being hit by a silencing charm by McGonagall and falling to the floor.

Harry shrugged. He supposed he couldn't blame the hat for his… its reaction. Learning that an adult had traveled into their past self wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence. He dutifully placed the hat back on the stool and walked towards the Gryffindor table. Everyone seemed to look from Harry to the sorting hat and back again silently asking themselves what had just occurred. Harry just sat down next to Neville

A befuddled Professor McGonagall stared at the hat for a few seconds. "What is wrong with the hat?" She directed this question at Dumbledore who looked just as confused as everyone else.

Instead of a voiced response coming from Albus, the hat laughed. Apparently, even someone of McGonagall's skill in magic could not keep such an ancient artifact under a spell for too long. "Very well," the hat announced, "with that level of boldness," the hat's tip gestured to a bemused Harry who was beginning to engage Neville in conversation, "and other factors, I think that the only house that Mr. Potter would fit in is GRYFFINDOR!" The last word was bellowed out and it echoed through the hall that was stuffed with hushed confusion. And then pandemonium broke out.

The Gryffindor table was the first to take up the cheer, thumping Harry on the back and slapping his hand in congratulations. The most notable cheer came from the ginger twins who yelled out, "WE GOT POTTER. WE GOT POTTER!"

The next group to provide their congratulations was the Hufflepuffs. It wasn't surprising, really. The house of the kind didn't pay much notice to house divides and, therefore, they were happy no matter what house someone got sorted in. They cheered their approval of the new Gryffindor's appointment, toasting their empty goblets in his direction.

Though admittedly not far behind in terms of time in comparison to the Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaw table did not cheer with nearly as much gusto. Instead, they all gave a couple of dutiful claps and then settled down to enjoy the rest of the sorting.

The Slytherin table, amusingly enough, did nothing. They wouldn't be caught dead supporting a Gryffindor, but they didn't dare jeer at Harry or boo at his appointment, the political ramifications could be devastating if the Potter heir decided to take offense. So they started at him blankly for a couple of seconds before, like the Ravenclaws, settling down to view the rest of the ceremony.

The rest of the sorting must have gone off relatively quickly because soon the serving platters laid out across the table filled with food. Harry was unable to listen to the rest of the sorting and he had apparently missed Dumbledore's graciously given permission to eat. Instead of hearing either of those, Harry's ears were clogged with several different people trying to talk with him at once, desperate to become friends with the great Harry Potter.

For some reason deciding that, now that Harry was seated, people wouldn't be interested in him, Faolan disappeared from the shadowed corner of the Great Hall and reappeared in Harry's lap. He cocked his head to the side and gave a lopsided grin, clearly pleased at how successfully he had hidden his presence. Harry gave a groan in response.

For now, only the Gryffindor's could see Faolan, but that would surely change soon. It took a couple of seconds for people to process what they had seen, and a couple more to figure out what it meant, after all, while Harry loved being a Gryffindor, he had to admit that a lot of the people in his house weren't the quickest thinkers.

Then the whispers began and those whispers spread to the other table. As Harry predicted, the news then reached the ears of other tables who in turn relayed the gossip to their neighbors. Hogwarts didn't have the most reliable rumor mill, but even the most extreme gossip that Harry over heard had some basis on the truth.

First, Hogwarts, then the Ministry, and then the entire world would learn of the existence of Harry's familiar and they wouldn't shut up about the topic until his next exploit reached their ears. Fame had a vicious cycle and it could switch from good to bad at the flick of a switch.

Harry, determined to eat his meal in peace, deliberately ignored everything that was shouted his way. He toned out the voices until all that was left was the muffled roar the world makes when one is submerged in water. Slowly, he reached for a serving fork, stabbed the roasted pork, and lifted it from the platter. He repeated those steps with different foods until his plate was full. And then he began to eat.

People just couldn't seem to take a hint, as they were still badgering him with questions, friend requests, and marriage proposals. But Harry ignored and endured until, after a second helping of dessert, he leaned against the table and waited for the Headmaster's final words of the day. He didn't have to wait long, much to the horror of a couple of people who had abandoned their food in favor of badgering Harry.

'Wow,' thought Harry, 'Hufflepuffs really got the short end of the stick when it came to mascots.'

Dumbledore stood up from his throne-like seat and snapped his fingers, seemingly teleporting through the table and in front of his podium. Judging by the faint flash of a blue glow that was emitted from behind the professor's back, though, Harry suspected that it was simply a time activated portkey. That was still an impressive feat of magic, but not nearly as impressive as teleporting without apparating.

The headmaster flung his arms out wide as though he was preparing a hug for a long lost dear friend. The hall fell silent. Even if Fate was correct about Dumbledore and his intentions, Harry could not lose the respect he held for the headmaster. Granted, he also held a small amount of respect for Voldemort, at least a healthy amount of it for the Dark Lord's strength. There were few people in the wizarding world who knew how to control a room with their presence instead of their pocket and Dumbledore was one of them.

The candles around the Great Hall dimmed slightly providing an eerie glow around the room. Like the bastion of light he was said to be, Dumbledore seemed to shine, his eyes even twinkling in time with a candle's flicker. He set his hands on either side of the podium and began to give his speech.

"To all students who are returning from their summer, I welcome you back and to all students who are new this year I hope you find Hogwarts exceeds all expectations. Remember one and all that Hogwarts will always provide help to those who ask for it." He looked directly at Harry when he said that.

"Now then, I'm sure all of the returning students will be quite cross with me for repeating myself, but, for the sake of the new students, I'm sure they can understand the necessity to do so. First, I would like to let all of the new students know that the Forbidden Forest, as the name implies, is forbidden. Should any student enter the forest without a professor or our groundskeeper, Hagrid, with them, they will find the punishment to be most grievous. I suppose this warning may serve as a reminder for some of our more… adventurous students." He sent a meaningful glance towards the Weasley twins.

Their response of "Oi! We haven't gone into the Forbidden Forest yet… although that does sound rather interesting," drew chuckles from those around them, but was lost to the sound of Dumbledore's calm but dominating voice.

"Additionally, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that a list of banned items is on his door. Should any students hold such an item in their possession, they will be punished in a manner equivalent to the severity of their item. Do not fear though, despite what Mr. Filch might say, we haven't used corporeal punishment in over 150 years." Again, a couple of students chuckled, though a few of the first years looked a bit nervous.

Despite his, and every other student's, dislike of the Hogwarts caretaker, Harry did have a grudging respect for the man's dedication. He had no magic and lived in a castle with hundreds of house elves, but the man still diligently cleaned and upheld the rules.

On the thought of Hogwarts' rules, Harry decided to try to find a book that listed all of the school's rules. There was no point in breaking the rules if their was an easy work around, he reasoned.

"Finally, the third floor corridor is to be avoided by all who do not wish to suffer a most painful death." Half of the students laughed at what they thought was a joke made by the headmaster, but they quickly stopped when they saw the serious look on his face. Then every student broke out into whispers.

"Is he serious?"

"Has the old man gone senile?"

"Wait until my father hears about this."

Dumbledore seemed to ignore all of the chatter, though Harry was sure that the headmaster knew what was being said. He spoke with an innocent look on his face. "I'm sure that all of that eating has left you all exhausted, so I believe it is time to send you off to bed. But I have four more things to say," the students groaned, "Nitwit. Oddment. Blubber. Tweak. Thank you, now off to bed. 5th year prefects, please guide your housemates, new and old, to your common room and give them the password before they fall asleep."

Percy Weasley and his fellow 5th year Gryffindor prefect called for the students to follow them and quickly led the students to the Fat Lady's portrait. Then to his fellow prefect's annoyance, he gave a speech.

"Fellow Gryffidors, welcome to the honorable house. I implore you all to follow the rules – it is far past time for Gryffindor to win the house cup. Should you need any held, please go to a prefect before going to a professor because they are often times busy preparing our wonderful education. Furthermore, we expect you to all bring further honor to hour house by getting good grades. I am sure that you all will do just that. Additionally -"

Percy was abruptly cut off by the other Gryffindor prefect. "The password is Caput Draconis. Have a good year." She spun around and climbed through the now open entrance and into the Gryffindor common room. The rest of the bold house's students flooded in after her, leaving a thoroughly confused Percy wondering why they didn't listen to the rest of his speech.

Quickly climbing up the stairs, Harry pulled his trunk out of his pocket, retrieved a perch from within, opened up his apartment, and called Hedwig out. The beautiful owl immediately flew out of the trunk and swooped down onto her perch. Harry then shrunk his trunk again, put it on his night stand, and fell into his bed. Once he was settled Faolan jumped and curled up right next to him. Capturing Pettigrew could wait until the next day. Harry still didn't know exactly how he was going to get Sirius free, so there was no point in capturing the rat yet. Closing his eyes while thinking on his plans, Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face. He was home.

 **AN: Sorry about the delay! I meant to get this update out 10 days ago, but I caught the summer virus and then my soccer training started so I've been exhausted. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the update. It was a bit dry in my opinion, but the sorting needed to happen. Trust me, the action will be picking up in the next few chapters. Finally, I will once again ask you to check out the other story on my account. It has a general list of the sides in the war, but is missing some key characters. You, the readers, will be able to vote on who goes where. So far I only have gotten one opinion, so please, get involved in the story. It helps me out and lets you all have a voice in this story too. Thank you!**


	9. Chapter 9: His First Days

In a room decked out in far more red and gold than necessary, the messy-haired boy shot out of bed with a lot of plans in mind. Most of those plans would certainly be tossed away due to unreasonable absurdity and delusional ideals, but having several plans to throw away was better than having a blank wall to stare at for hours.

The first step to eliminating ideas was to brush his teeth. Harry knew that there were spells to take care of personal hygiene, but there was something distinctly satisfying about staring at his reflection and getting hypnotized by the rhythmic movements of his arm and brush. In this time, Harry would begin to lose his sleepy stupor and his mind would begin to clear; something that was of the upmost importance for planning.

It had become a daily routine; not monotonous and time consuming, but a simple routine that was like breathing to Harry. Of course, breathing was necessary while his routine was not, but such details were unimportant.

He would spit out the toothpaste and pace in front of the mirror three times. This was a strange habit, which served absolutely no purpose, but it was a part of Harry's day to day life all the same. During these paces Harry could sort through all of his ideas and recall all of the specific details.

As he had been doing every day since going through personal improvement rituals with the help of the goblins, Harry would then stroll from the bathroom to the outdoors. Now that he was at Hogwarts, though, there would be an additional step: the navigation of the castle's halls. This period was filled with observing every single detail of the castle. If there was one thing Harry learned during his 2nd year the first time around, it was that details were very important.

Were it not for Hermione's observation skills, half of the school would likely have been dead before Hogwarts was actually closed. So many details were missed by even the wisest of people. The location of the Myrtle's death, the location of Mrs. Norris' petrification, the fact that none of the petrified students looked directly at their attacker, the fleeing spiders, the voice only Harry could hear. The list could go on and on, but, in the end, one thing was clear. Details are important.

And so Harry would study each and every brick of Hogwarts. He would take note of the shapes the most grew into before it was magicked away by some house elf. He would study every crack and crevice in search of any irregularities that may indicate a secret passage. Information about how the torch light flickered off of the suits of armor would be filed away in his mind along with every sound his feet made whenever he took a step.

During this time, Harry would find peace within himself. A serenity so deep that even the strongest of legilimens would have difficulty reading his mind. Not that he knew that of course. To Harry, this time was a time of relaxation and mostly pointless observations.

When he finally made his way outside, Harry would take a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air. As always it was both a wonderful and terrible feeling – like jumping into a cold pool on a hot summer day. On one hand it was pleasant, the breath was clean and refreshing like the water cooling one's body down. On the other, it was painful, the new air was harsh and strong to his previously constricted lungs, like the freezing feeling a pool gave from the dramatic temperature change.

Harry began to jog a light jog. His exercise regime wasn't strong enough to give him rippling muscles and a tight six pack, his body couldn't handle such strenuous activity yet, but the small workout was enough to take away his scrawny appearance and to give him the stamina to dodge, hob and weave for a good 30 minutes.

Ideally, Harry wanted to be able to last a good 2 hours before having to tap out of a fight, but baby steps were necessary to get to that point and he had a good four years to train if the previous time line was any indication.

While he loathed the idea of going into that graveyard, alone, after thoroughly exhausting himself in the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had long since resigned himself to acknowledging its necessity. The consequences of destroying all of the horcruxes without allowing Voldemort to have a body were far too extreme.

While Harry jogged, he would finally begin to discard his bad ideas. He quickly threw away ideas like learning to fly, using the Philosopher's Stone, and making an entire army of mind controlled beasts for the reasons 'ludicrous, pointless, and illegal' respectively.

Other plans, like becoming the Gryffindor seeker, exposing Quirrell, and saving the Longbottoms were nearly packed away in a corner of his mind to be used when the time was right.

Finally, there were the plans that weren't complete yet, most notably his plan to free Sirius. He knew what he wanted to do, but didn't know all of the details for its execution. As such, these plans were buried beneath his completed and useable plans to be figured out at a later time.

Finally finishing his lap around the lake, Harry stopped to catch his breath. After a couple of seconds, he forced himself to begin walking so as to avoid cramping. It was never a good idea to just stop running without letting the tense muscles ease into a relaxed state. Harry learned that the hard way early in his life. He could still remember the pain in his legs after a long round of Harry Hunting with Dudley.

His walk started off as an aimless meander, but after a few minutes he started heading back to the Gryffindor tower. He made a vow to himself to find a better place to clean up after exercising. At about this time, the other Gryffindor boys, minus Ron, of course, would be waking up and it would be a brawl to get in the shower first.

Harry did wonder why a school of magic, an entity capable of wondrous things, did not have several showers with privacy charms on them. Space wouldn't be an issue with the undetectable extension charm, wards could be used to prevent other boys from entering an occupied shower and to maintain everyone's decency.

For that matter, Harry wondered why such wards weren't in place in the Quidditch locker rooms. Harry didn't really mind being seen in the nude, not after 7 years of being seen by fellow Quidditch team mates and a couple of awkward moments when he, Ron, and Hermione were horcrux hunting, but he did have to question why a school that tried so hard to prevent sexual relations on its grounds, did not have any privacy in the Quidditch showers. Incredibly fit boys and girls, together, was just asking for peeping Tom's to wonder by. What was even more shocking, was that Umbridge didn't do anything to fix it during her reign of terror.

Harry's pondering was brought to a halt by a loud argument coming from his dormitory. Older years had long since established a schedule for who would shower in what order. It was essentially expected after sharing a bathroom for at least a year. But the first years would always fight over the single shower which amuses Harry to no end.

He walked up the steps and arrived at the first year Gryffindor boy's room. From the outside he heard a symphony of Dean and Seamus arguing, Neville trying to mediate, and Ron's snores. He opened the door and took in the sight.

Just as he expected, Ron was sprawled across his bed with his arms thrown out to either side. His head was slightly buried into his pillow and Harry could faintly make out the sight of a puddle of drool coming from his mouth.

In front of the bathroom doors, Seamus and Dean were pointing fingers in each other's face with spittle flying from their mouth as they argued their wonderfully terrible logic over why they deserved the shower first.

Every once and a while, Neville would begin to say something, but upon seeing both of their furious glares directed at him, he quickly backed down and cowered by his bed. The poor boy had no confidence and Harry knew it would be no easy task to eliminate the boy's shy nature.

Harry also knew that jumping into the argument with Dean and Seamus was pointless and that it would only end with all three of them pissed off and late for their classes. So he did what any smart person would do. He walked right past them, swung the door open, hastily shut it behind him, and locked it. Even though he doubted any of them knew how to cast Alohamora yet, he still cast a basic locking charm at the door.

The two boys would surely be mad at him when he emerged from the shower, but quite frankly, Harry didn't care. He had no plans on getting too close with either of the boys and he had better things to do than to get pulled into their petty squabble.

Harry whistled to himself as he turned on the water. Unlike the prefect's bathroom, the water in the dormitories didn't immediately adjust to the correct temperature, and so it took Harry a couple of tries to get it to be just right. While he did this, the door began to make angered noises, from being shouted through, to be banged on in an effort to get Harry out. It was funny how quickly Dean and Seamus became allies when the tide was turned on them both.

Stepping under the shower, Harry allowed their complaints to fade into the background. To get lost to the sound of the rushing water. It was finally time for the end of Harry's morning ideas. Now, Harry would prioritize his ideas.

There was two phases to this step. The first was timing. If something didn't need to be done before another idea, it naturally fell behind in Harry's priorities. The second, was importance. Should multiple ideas need to be done at around the same time, or if those ideas had no deadline, they would be executed by order of importance.

Because Harry currently only had five plans it was easy to sort them. His first plan was to instill some confidence into the Longbottom heir. This plan wasn't something Harry could do in one attempt, so while it was the first plan he initiated, it wouldn't necessarily be the first one done. In all likely good, out of the five plans Harry was working on, this plan would likely be the last one done.

Plan 'Sirius Freedom' was the only other plan that could potentially take longer than the first. Again, Harry would be activating this plan earlier than the other two, in fact, he planned on capturing Pettigrew while Ron showered and the other boys went down to the Great Hall to eat, but, because his entire plan was incomplete, it could take a while to see it finished.

The next plan was far more selfish than any of the others. Plan 'Gryffindor Seeker' was pretty self explanatory. He had all of the details planned out and all he had to do was to wait for his first flying class. It being the first one done, however, would unfortunately come at the expense of plan 'Confident Neville'. While Harry did feel bad about it, he saw no way to become the Gryffindor seeker without allowing Neville to fall off of his broom.

His fourth plan, though, would hopefully overcome the deficit made by the previous, and then some. Plan 'Revive', was the plan to help Neville's parents. When they regained consciousness, Neville would hopefully lose some of the fear being parentless gave him. And, even better, the Longbottoms may be able to help Harry boost Neville's confidence through reassurance and compliments. He had this plan completely figured out as well, but a large part of it relied on chance, so its completion was no given.

His final plan would actually be the catalyst for helping Neville's parents, if only indirectly. Plan 'Expose' was perhaps the most important of Harry's plans. While on a selfish level, Harry personally believed Plan 'Sirius Freedom' was the most important, he realized that, on a global scale, his final plan was most important. Allowing Voldemort to get the Philosopher's stone would be catastrophic.

Now, Voldemort getting a body would be awful, yes, but that was going to happen eventually anyway. So in that aspect, allowing him to retrieve the stone wasn't all that bad. The stone's other property, though, we would be detrimental.

In the hands of a lesser man, the transmutation of lead to gold wouldn't be all that useful. Sure they would be on top of the world for a couple of days, but once the world's economy caught up to them, all of that gold would serve no use other than looking pretty. But Voldemort, as much as Harry hates to admit it, was no lesser man. He was extremely smart. In fact, Harry thought that the man's only flaw was his arrogance.

Dumbledore would argue that his inability to love was a disadvantage, but Harry knew better. While Harry himself was a firm believer in the wonders of love, he was not naïve enough to believe that love was necessary in war. Charisma and actual feelings were two different things and even Dumbledore admitted that Tom Riddle was very charismatic. While his charisma slightly disappeared as his looks withered away, the man still knew how to sweet talk to get what he wanted. And so the people he couldn't risk attempting to scare into loyalty, would be charmed over to his side.

His flaws aside, Voldemort would certainly put the Philosopher's stone to good use. Harry wasn't exactly sure how the elixir of life worked, but he guessed and hoped that it restored its drinker to their peak health. After all, what use was eternal life if your bones were too brittle to put weight on? So, while Voldemort was already technically immortal with his horcruxes, he would surely use the elixir of life to regain his looks and to maximize his strength.

On the other hand, Voldemort was also smart enough to not flood the market with the gold he would make from the stone's alchemical properties. Sure, he would likely make a throne room entirely of gold, but he wouldn't actually use all that much. Instead he would turn the flood of a lesser man into a trickle. People could argue that Voldemort was impatient and Harry would agree for the most part, but, when it came to important things, the man could wait.

Voldemort didn't immediately go to his death eaters when he was vanquished that fateful Halloween night. He didn't announce his return to the world after the Triwizard tournament. His first reign wasn't something that lasted only a year. No, the man was smart and knew when he had to be patient and so he would slowly press the advantage of the Philosopher's Stone's wealth until he won the war.

Needless to say, Harry could not let that happen. What he also couldn't allow, was for his fear to make him the impatient one. No, he knew exactly how successful his escapade on the third floor was the first time and he would be foolish to not use a similar strategy this time. Harry certainly didn't plan on being foolish.

So, while this plan was important, it wouldn't be used immediately and therefore was not a priority. Based on the way things were at that current time, Harry suspected the order of his plans' completion would be 'Gryffindor Seeker', 'Expose', 'Revive', 'Sirius Freedom', and, lastly, 'Confident Neville.'

Satisfied with his planning and thoroughly cleaned, Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He towered himself off and then wrapped that towel around his waste. Then he walked up to the door which had long stopped outraging. He opened it.

On the other side, he was greeted by a relieved Neville and a frowning Dean and Seamus. Ron was unsurprisingly still asleep. When the duo saw him, they stood up with a fiery rage in their eyes. Harry raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Now, now boys, it's not my fault that you were too busy arguing to get anywhere." These words had no calming effect on them, but their charge was interrupted when Harry spoke again. "Speaking of arguing, who's showering next?"

He walked past the boys scotch-free, chuckling at how quickly they began to argue again. He did feel slightly bad for Neville, but he couldn't help anyone if he died a premature death at the hands of two boys.

He went to his bed and shut the curtains behind him. Despite how the rest of his dorm mates didn't really care for privacy, Harry, who wasn't about to succumb to peer pressure to the likes of them, still used his curtains.

Behind them, he moved his trunk onto his bed and expanded it, taking care not to hit the still sleeping Faolan. His familiar did like to sleep. He took his time going through the motions to get into his ritual/grimoire room. He was in no rush and the only reason he was going there in the first place was to pass the time while the other boys got ready. He wasn't about to just stare into space and wait for them to head to the Great Hall before beginning the process of waking up Ron.

In the grimoire room he walked over to the Peverell book and began to flip through its pages. While the pages themselves were old and worn, the writing was distinct and fresh. The pages also, despite their age, had no tips and tears.

He read through some of the family history, before growing bored and deciding to flip to a more… exciting section. He read through a couple of spells and rituals before one caught his eye 'The Ritual of Binding' the top of the page said and it described a way for Harry to understand his familiar – not only through feelings and actions, but through actual words.

While he was slightly hesitant to hear Faolan's thoughts, fearful of the word food being repeated in his mind several thousand times a day, he could not pass up the opportunity to speak with his familiar. Not only would it deepen their bond, but it would also open up possibilities that wouldn't have been so easy before. Thoughts of using Faolan's shadow transportation like Dumbledore used Fawkes' fire travel came to mind.

He briefly imagined teleporting in to Azkaban, grabbing Sirius, and teleporting out, but discarded the idea as far too risky. The chance of being seen in that, or any other break out situation, was too high and Harry couldn't afford to be on the run from the Ministry just to break Sirius out. The man would have to escape by himself and Harry, despite hating the idea of leaving his godfather in Azkaban, just had to accept that.

By the time he was finished reading about the ritual, its discovery, and its requirements, Harry found himself rushing out of his trunk. It had been nearly an hour and all of the boys were likely long since finished their showers.

His suspicion was proven correct when he surfaced to a dorm room that was empty, save a snoring Ron. Harry grinned. It was time to capture Pettigrew. He walked over to Ron's bed and started to wake him up.

After years of practice, Harry knew the most efficient way to achieve his task. First, he shook Ron. The red head, like always, was stubborn though and he groaned and rolled his face completely into the pillow. The shake wasn't to get Ron out of bed, though. Instead, it woke the boy up just enough to hear Harry say one name and four words.

"Ron, breakfast is almost over."

The redhead immediately shot out of bed and to his worn, old trunk. Harry wrinkled his nose when he saw that Ron had no intention of showering. It wouldn't hurt his plan to get Pettigrew, but the boy reeked and Harry pitied whoever was going to sit next to Ron because it sure as hell wouldn't be him.

Quickly throwing on his clothes the redhead began to cannonball out of the dorm saying "Come on, a rent you coming?"

Harry just shouted back at the boy who was already down the stair case. "Just a second, I have to wake up Faolan." Harry wasn't lying. He did still need to wake his wolf, but that wasn't really why he was staying behind. It was just a convenient excuse. And he wasn't worried about missing breakfast. Even if he did somehow miss the remaining hour of eating, he knew the location of hundreds of house elves, desperate to make more food.

He turned around and walked around Ron's bed to 'Scabbers'' cage. A whispered "Stupefy" and a jet of red light was all it took to make the rat's snoring end has he went into a spell induced coma. Were it any other death water, Harry would have fired another two stunning spells, just to make sure his opponent stayed down, but considering the already weak Pettogrew was in his rat form, Harry didn't want to risk it. Instead, he hustled his way to his trunk and headed into his prison.

"Verumforma," he said in incantation, and the rat quickly morphed into a man. Harry, not willing to take chances, now shot another stunner at Pettigrew. Considering he was no longer a small animal, Harry's fear of accidentally killing the man changed into a fear of Pettigrew waking up because of his animagus change.

Harry finished setting up his anti-animagus prison cell, before calling on Twinky.

"Hows may Twinky be helping Master Harry?" She bowed low to the ground with her question.

Harry, having long since given up on trying to get house elves to treat him like an equal, just told her what to do. "Twinky, I need this man to stay alive. Feed him a healthy diet and make sure he remains unarmed. And, while I loath to ask this of you, please clean up any of his waste." Harry was disgusted by the mere thought of anything revolving around Pettigrew's body waste disposal.

If Twinky felt the same way, she didn't show it. "Twinky dos as Master Harry says," she squeaked and then she snapped her fingers and disappeared. Harry made his way out of his trunk a happy man. He woke up Faolan with a grin on his face. The wolf picked up on his glee and let out a yip of joy. Pettigrew had been captured.

 **AN: Ok, so I wrote this chapter quickly to make up for my previous upload's delay. It is a bit of a filler, but it was important and needed to be done to describe exactly what Harry will be doing moving forward. If any of you are interested in what Harry read of The Ritual of Bonding, the grimoire entry will be posted on my other story, so go check it out. Additionally, I'm still looking for more votes on who's on who's side. Please keep in mind that Harry CANNOT HAVE EVERYBODY. Literally, I have a total of 3 votes for people going to other sides. One for Dumbledore, one for Voldemort, and one for Independent. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10: Occlumency Transfiguration

It had been a couple of days since Harry successfully caught Pettigrew and, upon reflection, he realized he could have executed it so much better. For one thing, he forgot to place the fake rat in Scabbers' cage. Ron still suspected one of the dorm mates murdered his rat and his the evidence. Thankfully, he suspected Seamus as the Irish boy had a habit of blowing things up.

This day would mark the first day of classes. For the first few days of Hogwarts, the students were allowed to explore the castle to allow them to feel 'more at home'. While Harry personally thought that the reasoning was stupid, he wasn't about to argue having free reign around the castle.

He looked down at his schedule and suppressed a laugh when he saw he had transfiguration first. He remembered his first transfiguration class – the shock and awe at seeing McGonagall leap from her desk as a cat and turn into a human mind air. Contrary to what her strict attitude may portray, the transfiguration professor did seem to enjoy a good prank. Why else would she prank the entire first year every year?

Harry planned on reversing the prank this time. Earlier that day he stored a bowl in his trunk and he made sure to buy several gallons of milk before coming to Hogwarts. It didn't take a genius to figure out exactly what his prank was. Simplicity was brilliance in Harry's mind.

He had already fallen into routine in his life at the castle, but his routine would now have to change to accommodate his class schedule. While he already knew everything that he was going to be taught in class, it would be far too suspicious to just not show up. He also couldn't ace every exam and practical example. That didn't necessarily mean that he wasn't going to appear to be a prodigy in some of them.

He had already decided what grades he was going to stride for. In potions he was going for an acceptable. In other words he was going to brew damn near perfect potions because Snape would mark him down anyways and there was no way the man would admit Harry was any good in potions.

He was going to try to get an Exceeds Expectations grade in Astronomy and Herbology. He didn't expect to run into any troubles there, whether it be from doing too well or too poorly. He never did do all that well in either of those classes, but he did manage to get by.

For flying class, if all went according to plan, he would receive a default Outstanding by making the quidditch team. If, for some reason, his plan failed and Harry didn't make it onto the team, he would get an outstanding the old fashion way. That much could be chalked up to inheriting his father's skills.

In addition to receiving an O in flying class, Harry planned to receive a higher end O in transfiguration. It was a tough choice to decide whether to follow after his mother or his father in O+ grade classes, but in the end, he decided that he would follow in his mother's foot steps. He already had the map, the invisibility cloak, Sirius, and Remus on his father's end of the spectrum and he also planned to become an animagus, but he didn't have much from his mother.

To compensate for that, he would be going for an O+ in charms, his mother's area of expertise. Not only, would that make him feel closer to his mother, but also he wouldn't have to hide his ability to cast the Patronus charm at such a young age, something which even some of the finest charms masters failed to do. In this class, he would perform every spell on his first attempt and would nail every bit of theoretical work as well.

Similarly, he planned on getting an O+ in Defence Against the Dark Arts. But he was going to be even more ambitious in that class. He planned on getting the highest score ever on each of his defense exams, but, despite his advanced knowledge and skill in the subject, he would be hard pressed to beat the top three place holders: Alastar Moody, Albus Dumbledore, and Charlus Potter.

Unfortunately if he made it into the top three, he would be knocking his grandfather off of the podium, but, if his grandfather were alive, Harry suspected the man wouldn't care. Instead Charlus Potter would likely be proud.

Harry still hadn't decided how he was going to score in his electives for third year. He planned on getting an Outstanding on his Newt for Muggle Studies, but he wasn't going to take that class at Hogwarts. He probably knew more than the exam scores about muggles. He originally thought about taking Arithmacy, but decided it would likely be too hard for him and that, if he really wanted to learn it, he could teach himself in his spare time or hire a tutor.

Three more classes would fill Harry's schedule up a bit too much in his opinion. So he decided to go for Ancient Runes and Care if Magical Creatures when the time came. In Ancient Runes, he wouldn't need to fake his grade as he would actually be learning something new. Whatever grade he got would be what he got for better or for worst. For Care of Magical Creatures, though, he couldn't decide if he wanted a high E or a low O. He would likely decide based on if he was drawing any suspicion from the professors or not.

He sighed. Harry would prefer not to have to hide his knowledge. Granted, he would also prefer not having a redo of his life, but both things were out of his hands.

Having already gone through his morning routine, Harry was currently in the Great Hall eating his breakfast. In one hand he held a spoon full of porridge and in the other he held a book.

This book was one of the more important things he had to read. It was on Occlumency, something that Harry desperately needed to learn. With both of his opponents being master Legillimens, not learning to shield his mind would cause him to suffer crushing defeats and Harry did not like to lose, particularly when the stakes were so high.

Finishing up his porridge, Harry placed his spoon in the bowl and pushed it to the side to make room to rest his book. It was titled _A Disciplined Mind_ and was written by none other than Alan Prince, one of Snape's ancestors. He opened the book and read the first couple of sentences.

 _I do not expect many of you to learn how to discipline your mind. Indeed, some of you will lack the patience and the precision needed to do so. But those of you who aren't complete idiots will learn how to recite the values of knowledge and sing the memories of old. Now, let us begin._

 _The first step to Occlumency is—_

And then all Harry felt was pain. It wasn't the pain experienced when he was near Voldemort, no, that pain was centralized around his scar. This pain expanded around the entirety of his head and leaked down his spine, dripping through every nerve in his body. It also wasn't the same type of pain as the cruciatus curse. While being crucioed felt like being stabbed with hundreds of sharp, burning knives, this pain was like eating a lot of something too spicy. It burned and overflowed to the point where he felt he could no longer take any more. And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

Harry felt relief that was only comparable to being carried by his father after missing him for hours while he worked… but… how did he remember that feeling? In response to his internal question, he fell into his mind.

Inside, he stood just outside the Hogwarts castle. It was a very disorienting event. One second he was in the Great Hall and the next he was outside the castle. No feeling of movement at all and yet he was there.

Around him he could see a bubble of protective wards, enveloping the school. Like in the Battle of Hogwarts, the entrance was guarded by lines of suits of armor. He walked past them in amazement. Behind the entrance, he was greeted by rows of bowling snakes, each one hissing about how they were unworthy. It was at that moment that Harry realized that he had accidentally copied Voldemort's occlumency shields.

It was a bitter-sweet feeling, really. On one hand, Harry hated having any association at all with the murderous lunatic. He hated the idea of having a similar defense in their head even more. On the other hand, he could not argue against Voldemort's prowess in the mind arts and would be hard pressed to form a better mind scape. Additionally, like Voldemort, Hogwarts was Harry's first home, his first aide haven. He had to admit to himself that, had he been presented the opportunity, he too would have used Hogwarts as his defense.

The real advantage though, was that, should Harry pull upon Voldemort's memory of Legillimency, something that happened as he went through that thought, he would be able to navigate his way through Voldemort's mind defenses with ease. It would only work once because the dark lord would surely improve his defenses after they failed him, but once was still a massive advantage. And because he knew that his mind scape was the same as Voldemort's, he could had his own defenses before the dark lord could use that same advantage against him.

He reviewed his thoughts with far more ease than he would have thought possible and assessed his defenses. Each of his memories were stored in a brick of Hogwarts, all he had to do was touch the brick and he would be able to review the memory with extreme clarity. Sure, a pensieve could do the same thing, but it would take far longer.

As a defense for his memories, the bricks that didn't contain memories contained every pain curse known by the dark lord within. And, considering he was _the_ _dark lord_ , that list was quite extensive.

Littered randomly across the floor were runes that would literally suck the magic out of anyone who stepped on them. Of course the person would jump off of it immediately, but it would be enough to kick any intruder that managed to get past the previous defenses out of his mind.

Harry was quite thankful that Voldemort was a paranoid bastard because his final defense was something only he and Harry could bypass. All of the biggest secrets and most important knowledge were stored behind Salazar's mouth in the Chamber of Secrets.

Not only would the intruder have to get past not one, not two, but three parseltongue locked doors, but they would also need to face a mental construct of Slytherin's one thousand year old basilisk.

While Dumbledore could probably defeat the basilisk and could probably get past the parsel-locked doors, he almost assuredly could not do both without a couple of months straight of work. Instinctually, Harry moved the location of all of the magic suckling runes. This way, Voldemort would have to be careful with his navigation of the mental Hogwarts halls. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he pulled upon the memory of Fluffy the Cerberus, minus the weakness to music, and placed him directly main entrance of Hogwarts.

Within the Great Hall he placed two dragons, one covering the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables and the other covering Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. He drew his inspiration for these constructs from the Hungarian Horntail he faced in the Triwizard Tournament and the Ukrainian Iron Belly that he flew on to escape Gringotts.

The Forbidden Forest was, of course, filled with Acromantulas and, just for the hell of it, Harry added in Arthur Weasley's car. Posted on either side of the entrances of the house common rooms were turrets that fired stunning spells at everything that moved, excluding Harry.

Finally, to make everything even more impossible, he filled every hall with Fred and George's Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Because it was Harry's mind, he could remove the powder at will, but any intruder wouldn't have such a luxury. With this addition, Harry was satisfied with his defense.

When he left his mind, he found that his Transfiguration class had nearly started. Communicating his desire to be teleported to class by Faolan was a but difficult, but he managed and he disappeared into the shadow beneath the table.

He reappeared in a tumble. Harry landed sprawled out on the floor, having fell from the flickering shadow on the wall that the torch made. He shot a glare at Faolan who simply wagged his tail in reply. Harry really needed to get that ritual done so he could have a few choice words with his familiar.

Thanks to the quick teleportation, he walked into the class with two minutes to spare; plenty of time for him to set up a bowl of milk for McGonagall. The cat gave him a strange look, but Harry just walked away like he was oblivious.

Just as he sat down in a desk next to Neville, the door flew open and a gaping, sweaty Ron barreled through. "Bloody hell," he said in between breaths, "I made it." He turned towards Harry and Neville who sat directly behind Seamus and Dean. "Why didn't any of you wake me? Can you imagine the look on old McGonagall's face if I was late to her first class?"

At the word 'old' the cat who had previously been lapping at the bowl of milk, much to Harry's amusement, looked up and narrowed her eyes. It leaped off of the desk and changed midair into the stern Professor McGonagall. "Indeed, I can imagine the look on 'old McGonagall's face, Mr. Weasley." Ron paled in realization. "Perhaps she ought to transfigured your wand into an alarm clock so that you can wake up in time." Ron mumbled something under his breath, but was for the most part ignored by the transfiguration professor. "That will be two points from Gryffindor for cursing, two for being late to class, and one for your rude behavior." All of the Gryffindlrs glared at Ron for losing them five points within the first minute of class. Even Harry, who knew that Ron would likely be late, scowled at the tall redhead. Sure, Dumbledore would make sure that the Gryffindors won the house cup, but Ron certainly didn't know that.

McGonagall swishes her want and shot a spell at a small target on her wall. The target grew and changed color until it formed into a large black chalkboard. She swishes her wand again and the chalk, which had previously been lying on her desk, came to life and started writing on the board.

"The first thing I wish to teach all of you that neither Transfiguration, nor Conjuration are permanent. You will not have to worry about the latter until 6th year, but it is of the upmost importance that you learn that lesson now." The chalk stopped writing and McGonagall pointed towards the board which now had three words written onto it: power, sentience, and mass.

"There are three things that influence the duration of something in the transfiguration field. The first is power. The amount of power a witch or a wizard applies to a spell will directly affect the duration of its effect. For example, if I were to use all of my power on transfiguring this stone," she held the aforementioned object with a flat hand, displaying it for the class to see, "into a flower, the transfiguration would last about four days. However, if one of you were to do the same thing, it would last no more than half of a day. This is because, as an adult, my magical core is far stronger than yours. I believe that the last time the Headmaster put all of his power into a similar transfiguration, it lasted nearly two weeks before reverting to its original state." Hermione, who sat 3 desks in front of Harry and one to the right, was writing furiously with her quill, scribbling away onto her third piece of parchment. Some things would always stay the same and Hermione's studious attitude would fall into that category.

"Next, the mass difference between transfigurations. If I were to transfigure a piece of string into a rubber band, the transfiguration would last a significant amount of time more than say, changing a paper clip into a suit of armor. The more an object needs to change, the more magic it takes and thus it lasts for a shorter amount of time."

"Finally, a transfiguration to or from something sentient makes a transfiguration shorter. The complex organ systems within the body make a transfiguration difficult and allowing the being to think is even more difficult. Because of this, we will not be transfiguring sentient things until 3rd year and will not begin human transfiguration until 7th." She gave a meaningful glance around the class, warning all to stay within her curriculum or face the punishments. Harry wasn't necessarily not going to listen to her. He had, in fact, followed her curriculum already; not in this life time, of course, but he did follow it.

She finished her lecture with a warning. "I can tell you that neither Madam Pomphrey, nor I, will be very happy with you if we have to fix you up after you changed your face to become more attractive. And I use attractive as a lose term because the results will almost certainly be quite the opposite." The class gulped and the professor, feeling that she had sufficiently scared the class away from doing anything foolish, began to teach again. "I am certain that some of you listened to the sentence about transfiguration and conjuration and thought of a few examples that state other wise. Please raise your hand and, when I call on you, provide an example."

Hermione's hand shot into the air like a bullet. Harry, himself, did not even bother to raise his hand because he knew that the bookworm would want to have her moment. When she was called upon, she spoke with her know-it-all tone. "Professor, I was in the library the other night-"

"More like every night," Ron whispered to his desk partner.

Hermione either didn't hear him, or choose to ignore him. She continued her statement without a single pause… or breath fir that matter. "—and I read something about the 'Aguamenti' spell. The book said that the water created by the spell was perfectly safe to drink, but isn't it technically a form of conjuration and, additionally, why is it in the first year charm book?"

The professor raised an eyebrow at the questions. 'There is always one,' she thought, as she remembered the 'Aguamenti' spell being one of the last spells in the book. She didn't have anything against reading ahead. In fact, she actually encouraged it, but assuming to know all there was about a spell just because you read a passage about it was dangerous. She would need to keep an eye on the bushy haired girl in the future.

"Yes," she began with a level tone, "the 'Aguamenti' spell is often mistaken by younger witches and wizards to be a form of conjuration, but it is not. What the spell actually does is pull the air from the surrounding area and cools it down to make it water. It then uses a modified banishing charm to form a constant stream of water. Whereas transfiguration and conjuration transform the surroundings into something they are not, charms simply modify what is already there. As such, the spell 'Aguamenti' is classified as a charm and not a conjuration. That should also answer your other question. Next?"

A red haired Slytherin raised her hand and was called upon. If Harry remembered correctly, her name was Stacy or something like that. "My mother once told me about the veela and how they can turn into some sort of bird hybrid… thing. She said that they can maintain that form indefinitely."

"Trust the half-blood to bring up such monstrous creatures," the Slytherin who Harry remembered as Theodore Nott sneered.

McGonagall shot the boy a glare, but turned to the girl who asked the question without a word. "Veela, contrary to popular belief, don't actually transform at all when they take the form of an avian creature. In actuality, they are already in their avian state even when they appear human. Their 'skin' despite feeling smooth and looking whole, is actually feathers flattened against their body. When they are angered, their avian 'transformation' comes out as they puff their feathers out and gain their wings. It is rumored that a sufficiently trained veela may change states at will, though, if that is true, it is closely held secret, as no veela has ever confirmed this rumor."

She looked around for another hand. Harry, seeing that no one else had their hand raised, lifted his own. "What about metamorphmagi, Professor?"

Her gaze turned to Harry and, try as she might, she could not stop a smile from crossing her face. If ever asked, she would never admit to having favorites, but, in truth, James Potter would always have a special place in her heart. The boy had always been so full of life, but knowledgeable. So frustrating, but so kind. And boy was he skilled in transfiguration. It was nice to see that his son inherited at least some interest in her class.

"Metamorphagi, like animagi, werewolves, and vampires, are actually the closest a witch or wizard may ever come to permanent transfiguration, though it is not exact. In fact, all of those cases fall under alchemy. Now, many people only associate alchemy with potions, but it is actually closer to transfiguration. Alchemy is the subtle change if things at an alchemical level. It isn't truly transfiguration because it doesn't pull something out of nothing, but it is a transformation."

"For animagi, there is a potion that is injected into the blood stream. The potion changes the DNA of a person until they are able to turn into an animal. At this point in time, they have no set animal form. It is through a deep understanding of one's self that they find their form, but even then they may not necessarily be able to change. The final step is why an animagus transformation is considered the peak of transfiguration mastery. The most important factor in performing a transfiguration spell is that you can imagine the transfiguration taking place. That is to say, you can clearly see the first object transforming into the next and then will it to be so. Similarly, in order to complete the animagus transformation, the person must be able to see themselves changing and must will it to be so, even under the most intense conditions of pain that the first transformation can bring." Harry blinked at that lecture. He had a new-found respect for the Marauders and their animagi accomplishments. He thought Pettigrew was pathetic though. Despite the mention of pain, the accomplishment of his father, despite the overwhelming difficulty against him, made Harry want to complete his own transformation even more.

"Now werewolves and vampires are actually transformed in a similar way to one another. When a werewolf bites someone, the DNA contained in their saliva enters the bloodstream of the victim and establishes dominance, slowly degrading the human side until it is submissive. After a full moon, the DNA retreats and allows the still fighting human side come to the surface. Technically speaking, similar to an animagus, a werewolf who understands themselves completely may allow the transformation to become permanent. This, however, has not happened in over 200 years because the advantage of having a human mind is too vast."

"The difference between a werewolf bite and a vampire bite is that, if the attacker is a vampire, they are in complete control of their actions. Because of this, they may chose to transmit the disease or not with their bites. This choice makes the virus even stronger as their magic actively pushes the virus through the victim's body until the change is complete and permanent."

Finally, there are metamorphmagi. Now no one is entirely sure where the gene started, but sometime thousands of years ago, the first metamorphmagus was born. From then on, their ancestors had the recessive trait. It is presumed that the next metamorphmagus appeared a couple of centuries later as a result of two of the ancestor's kin… breeding. Then, the recessive trait became dominant and another metamorphmagus was born. The transformation of a metamorphmagus is possible because their DNA is never set, but instead changes at a rapid pace. After years of mental discipline and self understanding, a metamorphmagus learns to control those transformations, though." Harry felt a bit bad for the teasing Tonks must have endured due to her constant changes before she gained control. He also felt sympathy towards Andromeda whom must have had one hell of a pregnancy.

McGonagall cast a quick 'tempus' before speaking again. "It seems our time for this class is up. As it is the first day of classes, I will assign no homework," the class cheered, but quoted down when they heard her continuation, "but expect no such luxury in the future. Next class we will be transfiguring matchsticks into needles and vice versa. I would recommend reading on the topic before hand. You are dismissed."

The class fumbled in their collection of their school supplies and rushed out of the door chatting excitedly about the class and boasting that they would become and animagus. Harry was the last to leave, not by choice, but because Faolan had decided to take a nap in his lap at some point during the class and Harry had to coax him out of his slumber. It was an interesting class to be sure and, thanks to his question, it went rather differently than the first time around. Harry hummed himself a tune as he walked down to potions class with Faolan at his heel.

 **ATTENTION: PLEASE READ THIS AN TO COMPLETION. THANK YOU!**

 **AN:** Hello all! Originally I intended for this chapter to fly through transfiguration, potions, and charms, but the words kept being typed and before I knew it I had typed over 4,000 words. So you all will have to wait a bit longer for the next potions class. Before I get reviews about how little of a role Faolan has played so far, I will address that concern. Yes, he will play a more pivotal role. I just find it hard to write a character who can't speak. In other words, when Harry does the familiar ritual, Faolan will take a more active role. Next, a common question is when I will introduce Daphne. The answer has honestly changed three times now because of how much I've been writing about one thing. In short, I planned to introduce her after his first day of classes, but before Halloween. Finally, details on the poll. I want to make one thing clear. Harry WILL be on his OWN side. So, to all of you who are casting votes for Harry to be independent, I'm sorry to say you haven't been voting at all really. That was always the plan and will not change. Now, for what the poll actually is. The poll is to establish what characters are on Harry's side, who supports Dumbledore, who supports Voldemort, and who is just independent. However, before you go wildly Billy naming every character in the books I will say that some characters have already been assigned. To find out who has been assigned where, you need to go to chapter 2 of the story IDAFT-Extras on my profile. No, I do not have anything in the poll section of my profile because this poll I'd open ended rather than multiple choice. If you read this well, thank you. If not, well you aren't reading this part anyways so… fuck you too. K thx, bye.


	11. Chapter 11: Charming Encounter

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter, our new celebrity." Harry suppressed a groan when he heard Snape begin his attempt to embarrass Harry like he had previously. Granted, he hadn't expected the Half-blood Prince to do otherwise, but, no matter the odds, he could always hope. Oh well. If he couldn't manage to get the man to like him… tolerate him, then he would at least have a bit of fun.

The journey to the potion's classroom had been relatively peaceful; a necessary period of serenity if Harry's mind were to remain sane in the upcoming shit show. Before he turned the final corner that led to the corridor that the potion's classroom inhabited, Harry unshrunk his trunk from his pocket and sent Faolan into his apartment. This would be the one class that Harry wouldn't have his familiar by his side.

Faolan had kicked up a fuss over the whole ordeal, but Harry didn't want to take any risks. Not only would Snape make it his goal to belittle and hurt Faolan, but the Slytherins also had a rather nasty habit of throwing volatile ingredients into Gryffindor potions. Potions explosions weren't exactly on Harry's to do list for experiences with Faolan.

He looked up at the professor with mock fear on his face. Snape seemed to revel in his apparent dominance, proud to take the son of James Potter down a peg or two.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" The man drawled out his words, speaking like there was no time limit to the class. Harry actually preferred this. The more time he spent on each word, the less time he had to insult everyone and everything.

"Well, Sir, you wouldn't get anything without any other ingredients." The Gryffindor side of the classroom snickered- well, all except Hermione. She turned her nose up, disgusted by the total lack of integrity and respect given to the professor.

The professor in question scowled before pressing his attack. "Let's try again. What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and aconite?" Hermione's hand shot into the air, waving about. She shook with her eagerness to prevent another 'catastrophe'.

"Hmm…" Harry began, as though deep in thought, tapping a finger to his chin rhythmically. Then he looked directly at Snape's nose to deliver his response. Harry didn't dare to look into the accomplished legilimens' eyes. He didn't need his mind defenses making their way back to Dumbledore. "I assume that you mean a difference other than their spellings correct?" He asked the question, though the answer was obvious. Snape thought so as well.

"Ob-viously," he let the word drag out as he rolled it off of his tongue in evident disdain.

"Ok… just give me a minute." Harry went back to appearing like he was thinking. He raised his pointer finger in the air and wrote on a chalkboard that didn't exist with its end. "Ah-Ha," he exclaimed, appearing as though he had just made the greatest discovery, "Whereas monkshood has two syllables, aconite has three." Hermione banged her head against the desk in conjunction to the other Gryffindor's chortles. Snape was not nearly amused as Harry's housemates.

"I am surrounded by dunderheads, complete and utter dunderheads," he murmured under his breath. Then he let his crawling voice raise in volume as he tutted. "Clearly fame isn't everything." A boy on the Slytherin side of the room started to chuckle, but Draco, who didn't want to ruin any potential alliance he and the Lord Potter, may have, silenced him with a glare. "I will give you one… last… chance." He said with his distinct voice. It was clear that the man, once again, expected Harry to answer 'incorrectly'. "Where could I find a bezoar, Mr. Potter?"

Again, Hermione's hand shot into the air. This time it was raised so violently that it ripped the rest of her body out of her chair. "Please Professor-" she began, but she was silenced with a glance of hatred.

"This is an easy one sir," Harry claimed.

"Indeed?" Snape questioned his pupil with clear disbelief.

"Yes," Harry asserted, "You could find a bezoar in Dumbledore's stomach." The Gryffindors were already riled up and ready to laugh, but this answer drew them short in confusion. Indeed, even Professor Snape didn't seem to understand this answer.

"Do explain," he demanded.

"Well, sir," Harry responded with a tone that suggested he was reliving a memory, "a couple of days ago I was walking down the hall when I heard you say something along the lines of 'Dumbledore, that old goat'. Naturally I assumed he grew bezoar in his stomach because goats do the same thing and I couldn't think of any other reason for you to call the headmaster such a term." Harry spoke innocently and matter-of-factly, almost mocking the Professor with his apparent naivety.

The class was silent for one second, and then two. Time passed by, seeming like an hour with each second. And then the class erupted in laughter. Even the Slytherins were not immune to this joke.

At the professor's glare, Harry gave a cheeky response. "Am I wrong sir?" He asked his question with a tone of confusion.

"10 points from Gryffindor for such idiotic responses," the professor intoned.

Even with the loss of points, Harry remained a hero in the eyes of his fellow Gryffindors. He resided to make his final hurrah. "But sir, none of my answers were actually wrong. Even if Dumbledore doesn't develop bezoars in his stomach, they COULD, theoretically, be found there, if only in certain circumstances."

"That will be another 5 points for your cheek," he raged and he turned on his heel to face the chalkboard at the front of the room, his cloak swinging behind him. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than whisper. Whereas previously, Harry would've been mystified by the man's words and tone, this time he was simply amused by an obvious attempt to capture the class' attention through dramatics. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." He spun on his heel once more before he said his last sentence. His final words were spoken with a meaningful look at Harry. While Harry could have further embarrassed the man at that moment, he decided to let the professor have his little time to shine.

The rest of the class was relatively uneventful, if a bit boring. Snape continued to hover over the Gryffindor's shoulders, desperately searching for even the smallest of mistakes and berating any that he caught. Of course, when he had the opportunity, he would compliment his Slytherins' masterful work.

At the class' end, Harry stood up and left the room at his normal pace without a care in the world. Everything appeared to be normal, but to the most observant of people, a slip of paper would be seen on the young Gryffindor's chair. Written on it were nine words:

 _Draught of Living Death_

 _None_

 _Stomach of a goat_

But before anyone so observant could read that piece of paper, Harry was already gone, leaving the befuddled potion's professor as the lone occupant of the room.

The passageways through Hogwarts were simply amazing in Harry's opinion. Because of his leisure pace, Harry was one of the last people to leave the room. However, using what he remembered from the Marauder's Map, he was one of the first people in the entire school to arrive at the Great Hall for lunch. Normally he would walk through the massive doors and go to sit down and eat, but today he planned on initiating the plan 'Gryffindor Seeker'.

In order for the plan to work, Harry had to pull out his rusty internal Slytherin tricks. He would be using the oldest manipulation trick in the book. Bribery. Not with money, the person he was bribing had more than enough of that, but with something far more useful.

He hid in the shadows of a nook by a suit of armor, leaning his back against the wall and singing a song inside his head. His eyes swept down the hall both ways in search if his target until, finally, the objective was located.

At first, all he saw was pale, blond hair, but soon the rest of the details of the figure took the shape of Draco Malfoy. The Malfoy heir was about to turn into the Great Hall, but was stopped when Harry stepped out of the nook and into his way.

"I have a proposition for you," Harry said and, without another word, he walked down to the nearest abandoned classroom which was, admittedly, not near at all. The blond ferret scurried after him, intrigued by what spoils he could gain. Already, he planned his opening line.

"This better be good, Potter. By the time we get back, lunch will probably be over," he said in a gander towards gaining the upper hand.

"Don't worry about that. The collateral will be more than worth it," Harry replied with a satisfied smirk. "Technically, what I have planned will be beneficial for the both of us, but I will give you something in return all the same."

"Well?" The Slytherin prince pushed for more details in his impatience.

"I think that we would have a far larger advantage in our alliance if we were to appear as enemies. That way we could wait to reveal our power until the right moment." The plan was sound, at least from Draco's perspective. Harry, though, honestly didn't care if their 'alliance' was in the open or hidden or even if it existed at all.

Sure, it would be beneficial, but Harry doubted that it would live past the incident at the end of his second year and, of it did, it certainly wouldn't continue once Voldemort returned. Because of this, Harry planned on pushing his relationship with Draco as far as he could before running out of time.

"Alright, I suppose that makes sense," Draco conceded, his mind being held at bay by his greed for the promised reward, "So, what's my reward?"

"I happen to know where a secret room is. One that would prevent you from missing a meal ever again."

The Malfoy heir's interest was peaked. "And where is this room?"

"First, you need to follow my plan. After all, it benefits us both and I'm only showing you the room out of the goodness of my heart." Harry prevented himself from laughing when he said that last bit. To be truthful, there was no heartfelt reason at all. He simply knew that his previous rival would never accept an even trade. The trade had to be turned in his favor. Harry didn't mind though. The Hogwarts kitchen held no value to him this time around because he had his trunk and Twinky.

"Fine, what's your plan?"

"A lot of this is going to be improvised," Harry admitted with a frown. "At some point in today's flying class, I'm going to shoot you a wink. At that moment, just act like a duck, yeah?"

Draco, while disgruntled by Harry's crash language, knew that he could have some fun if the young Potter wasn't standing in his way. When he considered that the only Gryffindor with any political power was Neville Longbottom, he knew he would have no opposition. The Longbottom heir was far too timid to say anything against him.

He nodded his assent and said, "I'll do it. Make sure you pay up though."

"A Potter never breaks his promises."

With a final nod, Draco left the room, his robes making a slight breeze as they rushed to follow him. Harry smiled at his success. As soon as Madam Hooch left with Neville, he would wink and everything would transpire as it had previously.

He also felt a great deal of satisfaction over robbing Draco of a meal opportunity. There was still 5 minutes of lunch left so, by the time Draco would have arrived, lunch would be finished. Harry didn't get anything out of this, but it satisfying all the same. It almost felt like vengeance for his previous life, really.

Harry, feeling no need to rush, casually walked to charms class. Because he had 15 minutes to eat, 5 for lunch and 10 to walk to charms, he knew that he could easily have himself a good meal

"Twinky," he called out, summoning his house elf.

"Yes, Master Harry? How mays Twinky bes helping Master Harry?"

"Would you please make me a cheese steak?" He asked his question as he sat down and leaned against the castle wall. When he looked back towards Twinky, the house elf was already gone. In her place, a cheesesteak, wrapped in aluminum foil, was placed on the ground. Shrugging, Harry picked it up, unwrapped it, and began to munch away, reveling in the delicious flavors of Twinky's cooking and wondering how the hell house elves worked so fast.

When he finished, he stood up and brushed the crumbs off of his lap. Had Mr. Filch seen him at that moment, the caretaker surely would have exploded in anger, but he wasn't so Harry was fine. He had no qualms over leaving crumbs behind. The Hogwarts staff included nearly 200 house elves and it would take less than a second for them to clean it up. Adding that to the fact that they enjoyed cleaning, well, there was no issue in leaving his food remains behind. He did cast a banishing charm on the foil though.

Glancing at the cheap watch on his wrist, Harry noticed that he had seven minutes to get to charms class. He had actually found that watch on the streets of Diagon Alley one day looking lonely and forgotten and, after checking it for various curses and the like, he decided to claim it as his own… at least until someone who cared enough about him bought one for his 17th birthday. Personally, he hoped it was Sirius who bought him his future watch. That would mean that his godfather stayed alive.

He decided to spend his remaining 7 minutes in the most productive way possible. He pulled Faolan out of his compartment and summoned a ball from within. Then they began to play their favorite game: Chase After the Bouncing Ball. He used a quick 'Depulso' spell on the ball to send it flying towards a wall. It would bounce off of that wall and hit the next, bouncing in unpredictable patterns for Faolan catch.

The game served two purposes. One, it made Faolan have better reflexes. Because the ball was being caught out of the air each time, Faolan would have to jump and snap his jaw shut in the blink of an eye. Additionally, his stamina was being built up so that he could use his reflexes. The other reason was actually rather simple. It was fun for Faolan and it amused Harry to no end. Watching Faolan freak out as he tried to catch the ball was a hysterical sight.

Finally, the seven minutes were up and Harry summoned the ball into his hand and threw it into his compartment. With a significant look towards the slightly disappointed Faolan, both teleported away to reappear by the charms classroom. Harry walked through the door just as Professor Flitwick made his climb on to the top of his stack of books.

He stood at a whopping three feet tall and actually looked a bit like Griphook. Despite his squeaky voice and small stature, the was no doubt that the charms professor was extremely knowledgeable and skilled.

The problem with charms class was that Harry already knew how to do everything. While in transfiguration, he could see stuff changing and vary his changes in color and size, charms were rather straight forward. In potions he could learn something each time because he was a pretty awful brewer, but in charms ure had already mastered the patronus charm, arguably the most difficult charm to cast.

In short, holding his wand and casting 'lumos' and 'nox' repeatedly was rather boring. He couldn't even practice making his wand movements more fluent and quick. Neither of the two spells required wand movement. Professor Flitwick was an amazing professor, of that there was no doubt, but even with his cheery disposition, he could make a class on lighting the tip of the wand more exciting. Pity.

So Harry made do with passing the time playing with Faolan. Either the professor didn't notice or, more likely, he didn't care because he never said anything to Harry. Considering Harry had already successfully cast the spell ten time, much to Hermione's displeasure, he really didn't blame the charms professor for his lack of caring.

When the class finally ended, Harry was the first out of the door, something that drew curious stares from his classmates. In the previous two classes, Harry was one of the last students to leave, but for some reason he couldn't get out of charms class faster.

Most would assume that he just didn't like charms class. Of course, with the Hogwarts rumor mill, by the next morning it would be said that Flitwick and Harry dueled, Harry was defeated, and he ran out of the class in fear.

The rumors could make their way around Hogwarts. Harry didn't this point he was used to it. But the reality could not have been farther away from the rumors. In reality, it was a combination of Harry's boredom in charms and his excitement for the upcoming flying class.

He rushed down the halls with unbidden exhilaration only to come to an abrupt stop when he collided with something. He fell to the ground. Apparently that 'something' was actually a person because as they fell they emitted a hug pitched 'eep'.

He looked up to a rather familiar sight and a sense of déjà vu overwhelmed him. In front of him was the same girl who he collided with at Gringotts. Once more she held a cold fury in her blue eyes. This time they held an intimidating glint behind them, like she wished to scare him onto her service. Her thinking that Harry would submit was kind of cute really. Harry, who had faced Voldemort multiple times, saw a similar look of rage and domineering in an 11 year old girl.

He stood up and helped her to her feet. Using the hand that was still connected from his assistance, Harry brought her knuckles to his lips and gave them a light kiss. His mind was scrambling to remember the traditional etiquette after being jarred from his fall.

"I apologize m'lady," he said in a voice that he hoped was charming, "In my haste to get to class I seem to have forgotten my surroundings, a sure shame with someone with you beauty walking around." Harry blushed as his mind caught up to what he said on autopilot.

Apparently she was caught off guard because her face, which had been crafted to be perfectly neutral once he helped her up, held a blush as well. "Your apology is accepted. I am Daphne Greengrass, heiress to House Greengrass."

As he always did when someone introduced themselves, Harry struggled to avoid saying "I know." Instead he merely smiled and returned the greeting. "I am Lord Potter," he began, carefully avoiding saying all of his titles, after several nights' sleep, Harry decided that he had made a rather large blunder when he told the compartment about all of his lordships. Politically, it was wise to keep those things a secret. Then he could whip then out when they would achieve the maximum effect. Maybe he would reveal them all together, maybe one at a time.

"I hope to see you more in the future. If you will excuse me I have a class to get to," he said, completely disregarding the fact that they both were headed to the same class. "Good day," he finished and he walked a brisk walk away.

For someone with normal observation skills, his statements wouldn't be out if the ordinary, but Daphne Greengrass, who constantly held a strong grip on her Occlumency to notice such small things, had a revelation as he was walking away.

She flashed back to the event at Gringotts. The person who collided with her shared the same voice, speech pattern, and even gave the same salutation as one Harry Potter. Alone, this information wouldn't necessarily mean anything, but together, the identity of the mysterious stranger was revealed. Because of this, she decided to forgo her pureblood woman training and sprinted after him.

Harry was surprised by her arrival, but he continued to walk, saying nothing. Daphne wasn't satisfies by this at all. "So when were you going to tell me that we met before?"

Harry stumbled at her question as his mind raced over how she could possibly know that he was reliving his life. Then clarity and reason fought back and Harry realized that she had discovered him to be the same person who ran into her weeks before. He could lie about it, but he doubted that she would fall for it and if she called his bluff he certainly wouldn't be endearing himself to her. So instead he put on a charming smile and asked a return question. "What gave me away?"

Daphne raised an eyebrow and decided to take the Slytherin route in this conversation. "Hmm… I could tell you, but in return you would have to tell me what you meant when you suggested that your station was above mine. The House of Greengrass is Most Ancient and Most Noble as well.

Harry quickly calculated the benefits and the punishments for both options he had. He could settle for knowing what gave him away, but he then had the potential to make the same mistake in the future. He could tell her what she wanted to know, but then the secret would really be out. While he trusted Susan, Neville, and Hermione from his previous life, he didn't know anything about Daphne other than that he never saw her fighting on the opposite side. In the end, he decided that the information on his lordships was less significant than potentially giving himself up when traveling incognito or spying.

"Fine. Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Lord Hadrian James Potter- Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor, Lord of the Most Ancient House of Peverell, and Heir of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

With each title named, Daphne's eyes grew wider and wider until all she could say when he finished was, "Oh."

Harry was rather impatient to learn how she knew, though so he pressed her. "Now how did you know?"

Daphne, snapping out of her stupor quickly gave her answer. "It was three things, actually. First, your voice sounded the same. Second, you used the same speech pattern and third, you used the same term for farewell."

"Ah," Harry said, cursing himself for his stupidity and internally praising Daphne's skill in observation. Then, rather suddenly, he asked, "How would you like to be friends?" It was a risky move, but Harry believed that her observations would be rather useful in the future. He also thought he remembered her being 2nd or 3rd in his year from his previous life. And, the real kicker, was that he couldn't remember her being a death eater. In fact, he was pretty sure that her father was one of the current leaders of the neutral faction.

Daphne was skeptical though. "And what would your terms be?" she asked with narrowed eyes. In her mind, such a powerful person had to have some sort of conniving plan to just offer friendship out of the blue.

But Harry was a simple person. "No terms other than you have my back and I have yours."

In a dungeon full of snakes, it was wise to find powerful allies and, while her house was older and, therefore, technically more powerful than the House of Malfoy, they were no where near as rich. It was clear that, in the snake pit, Draco was king. A friendship with Harry would keep her safe from any pressing from other Slytherins who could do her harm while in school. The upper years in particular had a habit of taking advantage of the lower, weaker year girls. So far her status had kept her safe, but she was under no illusion that it would last for long.

"I agree. My first request as your friend is that we make our friendship public."

"Why?" Harry asked with a furrowed brow, not liking the implications.

"Because it would make it clear that if someone messes with me, they mess with you and vice versa. Better safe than sorry." She spoke anxiously. What happened in the snake pit wasn't a secret necessarily, but when asked no Slytherin would ever dare admit it. She quickly swerved Harry away from more questions. "I think tomorrow, at lunch, you and I will sit across from one another at the Slytherin table."

Harry didn't even bother asking why in this case. He knew that, if they sat at the Gryffindor table, she would be torn to pieces. He wasn't sure if that was literal or metaphorical either. At the Slytherin table, he was currently 'allied' with Malfoy so, while he may get a bit of flack over it from his fellow Gryffindors, it would be better than what Daphne would get for sitting at the lion's table. So he agreed. They continued their walk in amicable silence, both thinking about implications from the other and how flying class would go.

 **AN:** So we hit 1k followers which is insane. Honestly, I started writing this because I was bored and no other fanfictions caught my eye. I never expected that my story would be so well liked. Thank you all! Now then, for all you readers who asked when Daphne would be introduced or were anxious for it to happen: There you go. Once again I will plug my other story, _IDAFT – Extras_ , and, in particular, its second 'chapter. There you will find an incomplete list of the sides and a plea to vote on those who aren't listed. Please, when you vote, keep in mind that not everybody can go to Harry. I want bloodshed dammit and I can't do that if everyone and their mothers are on Harry's side. As an update on the little 'guessing game', if you will, with the blank spot on Voldemort's side, I will say that no one has been even remotely close with their guess, so if you want to try your luck, go ahead. Thank you once again for all of your support!


	12. Chapter 12: Quidditch

It was probably for the best that Harry and Daphne were the first arrivals to the training grounds. While it wouldn't necessarily be the worst thing to be spotted walking side by side, they certainly would have lost a significant amount of impact. If they were spotted walking together by a couple of students, the rumor would spread across the school, but everyone above the 3rd year knew that the Hogwarts rumor mill wasn't the most reliable source of information. At the same time, those same students wouldn't be surprised of the rumor was true either. No, Harry sitting next to Daphne during lunch in the great hall would have a far larger impact than whispers of them walking next to each other.

They settled on opposite sides if the grounds, not so far as to make it seem intentional, but not close enough for people to make assumptions either. It was like when one walked into a classroom with only one other student who they didn't know. It would be considered rather strange to sit right next to them, but rather offensive if you sat as far away as possible.

While waiting for the other students to make their way onto the grounds, Harry pulled out a ball and played a game of fetch with Faolan. He worried that if he hadn't pulled out the ball, Faolan would have been a bit too… enthusiastic with the broomsticks littered by his paws.

Slowly the students trickled in, some giving slight nods of acknowledgment to Harry and others pointedly ignoring him. When Madam Hooch finally arrived, he looked around to see if anyone was looking and, when he saw the coast was clear, he wordlessly summoned the ball back to his hand with an exhausted Faolan rodding after it. Harry's familiar was very similar to him in the sense that, even when thoroughly exhausted, he would never give up, not even for the most trivial of things (Not that chasing a ball was trivial in Faolan's mind).

A snap of his fingers and a thought of intent saw to Twinky teleporting invisibly behind him, grabbing the ball, and teleporting back into his trunk. In a situation that didn't require stealth, Harry would always summon Twinky verbally. The reason for that was that with words, the house elf's magic was called upon to answer the summons, but with thoughts, his magic was called to pull the house elf to him. It wasn't a large amount of magic, but, if there was a way to avoid using it, why would he waste any magic at all? For now, he planned on keeping Twinky a secret, so he had to settle with the loss of magic.

Seeing that his extremely important mission was over, Faolan curled up into a ball next to Harry and fell asleep. That was probably for the best because Harry wouldn't be able to give him any attention while in the air anyway. Brooms just weren't meant for canines.

With a blow of her whistle, Madam Hooch grabbed the class' attention and pulled it towards herself. She gave a short speech about flight safety and ranted for a while about the many things that could cause someone to fall to their death. It probably wasn't the best lecture to give to a bunch of eleven year olds, but it did the trick and every student made a note to avoid any of those things.

At last she told them to command their brooms; to call them to their hands with the word 'up'. Just as things had gone last time, Harry's broom was the first to find his hand, though, unlike last time, when it forcibly smacked its way, trying to embed itself into his hand, this time it lazily floated up into his grasp.

Slowly the other students managed to summon their brooms. Harry had forgotten about Ron's initial difficulty with the task and didn't bother suppressing the laugh that came when the redhead's broom met his face.

Hermione was the last person to pull her broom to her hand, much to her displeasure. Harry wasn't surprised though. The broom probably knew that one hand would always hold a book and distracted flying was never a good idea.

The class swung their leg over their brooms in unison and prepared to launch up, but Madam Hooch planned on taking things slow. She gave another short lecture before at last saying, "On the count of three, please push of the ground lightly and hover in the air. One… two… thr-"

Before she could finish her count, Neville clumsily wobbled through the air, looking like a bird taking its first step to learning how to fly. Except Neville wasn't a bird. In a rather painful sequence of events, Neville found himself moaning on the floor, clinging to his wrist and writhing in pain. Again, Harry felt a wave of sympathy for the boy and wondered if his place on the Gryffindor team was really worth allowing pain to meet his friend. But it was too late now, so he may as well go through with it.

As Madam Hooch tutted and declared Neville's wrist to be broken, Harry subtly kicked the boy's Remembrell into Draco's feet. Upon feeling the impact, the blond boy looked around furiously trying to catch the perpetrator. When his gaze swept over Harry's face, Harry winked and Draco's eyes lit up in understanding.

The blonde picked up the sphere of magic and tossed it from hand to hand. "Hmph. Seems like Longbottom's lost his Remembrell. I think I'll be keeping this. It's better in my hands anyways."

Harry stepped forward like a hero making his final charge. "Give it here Malfoy," he growled out. It was some pretty good acting on his end if he did say so himself.

"Ooooh. Looks like Saint Potter's sticking up for the squib." Malfoy kicked up off the ground and flew into the sky. "You know, I think I'll leave this somewhere Longbottom can't get. A tree, perhaps, if his performance was anything to go by."

At this point, Harry got the feeling that the blond boy wasn't acting anymore- that he was getting too into the moment and actively enjoying himself. At the moment, Harry could care less if Malfoy talked smack. Those words would be meaningless, buried beneath the shadow of his victorious performance when he retrieved the Remembrell. But if Malfoy fell into bad habits, well… Harry knew more than enough spells to put him in his place. He didn't really have any further need of the petty heir anyway.

He too kicked off into the air and bathed in the refreshing air, relishing every moment of his takeoff. "Give it here Malfoy!" He repeated himself with more grit this time. Internally, he began to have doubts. What if Malfoy went through with his word and hid it in a tree? What if Harry missed the catch? The second one was ridiculous, of course. Harry rarely missed a snitch, much less an object falling in a single direction. But it is human nature to worry over the dumbest of things and Harry, no matter how powerful or knowledgeable he was for a first year, was, and always would be, a human.

But his worries were proved worthless when Malfoy wound back his arm and launched the sphere through the air, saying "You want it? Go get it," as it flew through the air.

Harry sped after it. Despite knowing that he could catch the ball, he was slightly ticked off at Draco. The boy had no knowledge of Harry's flying abilities and seriously could have broken the Remembrell, an act that Harry certainly wouldn't be pleased with. His belief that Malfoy fell too into the act was proven true with a single action. No matter how much work someone put into the Malfoy heir, he would always be a dick. He was raised to be one and rarely discouraged for it and, by the time that he was, it was too late to change him.

The air whipped past Harry's face, giving the feeling of tearing flesh around Harry's face. Subconsciously, he made a note to find a spell to soften the blow. It was the one part of flying that he hated, an unfortunate trait for a seeker to have. He would not let pain deter him. Voldemort was his enemy and the wind didn't have red eyes, nor slits for a nose. Even with every part of his body trying to escape through his back, Harry flew steadfast.

He caught the ball right in front of Gryffindor tower, directly in front of a window. Through the window, Professor McGonagall, who was in the middle of lecturing the Weasley twins for the 264th time, snapped her head over to the window as one of her lions shot towards the tower. They would certainly collide with the stone walls. Or, so she thought. Instead the student reached one hand out, closed it around a ball, and leaned back, taking his broom from beneath him to above him. Quickly, the student righted themselves, pumping their ball filled fist and laughing like a maniac.

As McGonagall stared in disbelief, the red headed menaces shared a look and scurried their way out of the common room, hustling to their secret experiments room. For once, McGonagall wouldn't notice. She was far to busy snapping out of her stupor and stomping down the tower herself in a brisk walk to the Training Grounds.

Harry landed to a symphony of cheers sung by his fellow first years. And then the unseen conductor closed his hand, signaling the end of their performance. McGonagall walked through the silence. "Come with me Mr. Potter," she ordered before turning back around and storming into the castle. Harry scurried after her to the beat of the sniggering Slytherins and the protesting Gryffindors.

He followed her in silence, making sure to keep his head down in 'shame'. It wouldn't do to have a look of victory on his face. To McGonagall, he had no reason to believe he would be rewarded for his act instead of punished.

The student and professor stopped in front of the DADA classroom and McGonagall wrapped her knuckles against the door before poking her head in. "Excuse me Professor Quirrell, but may I borrow Wood for a moment."

Harry winced at her choice of words, even though he knew their true meaning. Honestly, Professor McGonagall ought to have more sense than that. Then again, he supposed he could excuse her lack of thought with the absurdity of the situation.

At Quirrell's nod, a white, lithe boy stood up and walked towards his head of house with a nervous, confused look in his eye. He knew that he hadn't done anything wrong, but it was possible that McGonagall was pulling him to let him know that he would need to find some beaters for the next quidditch game. It wouldn't be the first time that the Weasley twins gained a detention on a game day. Their penchant for trouble and Professor Snape's hate of all things Gryffindor saw to that.

Finding a seeker as well as a pair of beaters would be a nightmare. Because Fred and George had already been unable to play in two games, the previous Gryffindor captain had assigned two players as backups, but those players had graduated the previous year and no Gryffindor seemed to have the skill to hit a bludger now. A note was made to give the Weasley twins a speaking to about their pranks and the caution behind them.

Oliver Wood was pleasantly surprised, though, by the transfiguration professor's news. "Wood, I have found you a seeker."

His first instinct was to let out a whoop of joy and to jump in celebration, but he surprised that. His more skeptical side needed to come out before he could relax. Harry Potter may be the boy-who-lived, but he was still a first year and surviving a killing curse had nothing to do with catching a snitch. "A seeker?" He questioned, "Are you sure?" While the captain spoke, he surveyed the subject of his query, making notes of advantages and disadvantages.

Being a first year, Harry Potter was small compared to the other house seekers, something which could prove advantageous, or lead to a Gryffindor defeat. His small stature would allow him better acceleration and sharper turns, but it could also render him helpless against the legal bullying of the opposing seeker. He noticed that Harry showed some sign of developing muscles, a decisively good sign that would certainly help deter other seekers from pushing him around.

But none of those were the most important thing in a seeker. "Can he catch?" Oliver asked.

McGonagall smiled in response. "I just saw him chase down a small ball, catch it perfectly, and perform a trick to avoid colliding with the Gryffindor tower that would have put Charlie Weasley to shame. Admittedly, catching what he did is a lot easier than catching a snitch, but with our lack of prospective seekers, is it not worth giving him a shot?"

Oliver nodded, but had one final concern to address before giving the young Gryffindor a try out. "First years aren't allowed a broom, professor." He stated this, but it was clearly meant as an inquiry.

"That rule is mostly there to prevent students from flying and hurting themselves because they have had no lesson. I will pull some strings and get Dumbledore to bend the rules. If he doesn't allow this, I'm sure we can find another solution to the problem."

Harry knew that Dumbledore would bend the rules for him, but, even if the elderly professor didn't, there was a rather simple solution. The rules stated that a first year could not own a broom at Hogwarts. There was no rule against a first year using one. Therefore, Harry could just give Oliver some galleons, tell the captain to buy a second broom, use that broom for practices and games, and then Oliver could give it to him as a start of the year gift in second year.

The captain nodded and asked for permission to test Harry out immediately. When McGonagall gave the go-ahead, Oliver grasped Harry's shoulder and guided him to the Quidditch Pitch. He went into the Gryffindor locker rooms to retrieve his broom and the quidditch balls. As soon as Oliver disappeared behind the entryway, Harry called for Twinky.

"Twinky, would you please wake up Faolan and bring him to me?" Harry knew that Faolan was still asleep on the training grounds. His familiar was always by his side when he was conscious and would have surely been barking up a storm if he had awoken to see that Harry was gone. The pair still hadn't figured out how to locate each other without seeing one another, something that Harry read was possible to do with a familiar bond.

Twinky disappeared and reappeared within seconds, the jarring motion of elf apparation causing Faolan to emit a yelp. Twinky disappeared back into Harry's trunk, likely to clean up an invisible speck of dust, just as Oliver walked back onto the pitch, clueless of the previous events.

He didn't give Faolan a second glance as he walked up to Harry with one hand holding a quidditch box against his side and the other slinging a broom over his shoulder. It was common knowledge that Harry and Faolan were rarely separated.

He knelt down in front of Harry and set the box down. Oliver opened it, revealing two strapped down, violently shaking balls, and a stationary one. In the upper-right corner of the box, a compartment with the Gryffindor house logo on its lid rested. Inside, Harry knew that the snitch was fluttering about.

Oliver asked if Harry knew the rules of the game and nodded when Harry said yes. Then he handed Harry his broom. "Here," he said, "use this for today." It was a Cleansweep 7, the latest of the Cleansweep brand and recommended by almost every professional quidditch player out there. It wasn't really surprising that Oliver owned that broom. His family wasn't the most wealthy, but they held their fair share of money and Oliver, being the quidditch maniac that he was, surely would get the best gear possible. He was an only child and so his parents had no qualms over spoiling him.

Harry gratefully grabbed the broom and mounted it. The speed and control had nothing on the Firebolt he once owned, but it was decent enough and its bulkier frame definitely made it the best fit for a keeper.

Compared to the school brooms, though, it was a rocket and when Harry took to the sky, he gained far more speed than he had in flying class. Oliver pulled out his wand and conjured a couple of gold-colored golf balls. They shot out of his wand and fell to the ground. He leaned over and picked one up, rolling it between his thumb and index finger like it was his final galleon in a casino. He used his other hand to wave Harry down.

"Alright. McGonagall isn't one to lie about quidditch, but I'm sure you can understand that I need to test you out in case what she saw was just a fluke." Oliver tossed the ball into the air and caught it with his palm facing up and cupped. "If you are as good as she believes, this should really be a cakewalk. I'm just going to shoot these high into the air. Your job is to catch them. Our seeker from last year caught two out of five so it shouldn't be too hard to beat him. Got all that?"

Harry nodded and shot off into the air, showboating a little bit with flips and aerial maneuvers. Below him, Oliver nodded his approval. Seekers had to be the most mobile players on the field. While chasers and beaters generally flew straight lines and inky had to worry about other players, seekers were usually the target of bludger shots from beaters and if they didn't have the skill to dodge they wouldn't last long.

Without waiting for any indication from Harry to signal his readiness, Oliver used a quick 'depulso' to shoot the ball into the air. He could have thrown it, true, but using depulso made the speed of the ball flying much faster.

A normal seeker would never have spotted that golf ball, having no indication that it was flying in the air, but Harry was no normal seeker. During one of his flips, he spotted the golden ball and he quickly repositioned himself to shoot after it. The catch was easy. Oliver shot two more golf balls into the air individually in the same way he had shot the first. Then, on a whim, he decided to test Harry further by shooting the remaining two at the same time, aiming his spell in between them so that they shot in opposite directions.

Harry was now well aware that Oliver had started his testing, so after each catch, he sharply turned to watch the Gryffindor keeper shoot the next ball into the air. Seeing Oliver shoot the two balls simultaneously caused him to raise an eyebrow, but Harry was never one to turn down a challenge, so he sped off.

First he went for the ball lowest to the ground. The choice was logical. If he went for the other ball, the one he was currently chasing would surely hit the ground. Before he reached his target, Harry realized that, without his Firebolt, he would never be able to catch both balls the normal way. So he took a risk. Instead or reaching out his hand to snatch the golden ball out of the air, Harry swung the Cleansweep around, using the tail end of the broom to knock the ball high into the air towards the position of the other ball.

Professional keepers did it all the time with quaffles, using their broom to pass to their chasers, saving time from the transfer in the process. Hitting a golf ball correctly was harder, but Harry, having such an acute talent in the air, managed it.

This move didn't buy him much time, though. Perhaps he would get an additional couple of seconds at most. So, without looking to make sure he correctly aimed the golf ball, he shot after the second, having already positioned himself in line with his spin.

He was only six feet off of the ground when he snatched the ball from gravity's clutches and it took an enormous amount of strength and talent to pull up, but, once again, he managed.

When he was safely level with the ground, he turned his broom up so that he was perpendicular to the pitch. Above him, and approximately 34 degrees to his left, the other golf ball was falling down.

With no other seeker to compete with, Harry could have positioned himself to let the ball fall easily into his hands. But Harry could not settle for mediocrity.

In a game situation, waiting for the snitch to come to you was both pointless and stupid. Firstly, seeking is usually a game of seconds, one seeker just barely grabbing the ball before the other. So waiting for the ball was a stupid idea because those seconds wasted would be a window of opportunity for the other seeker. Not that that reason really mattered anyway when put in conjunction with the other. That fact of the matter was that a snitch would never go in a straight line, much less directly towards a player.

Harry flew towards the other ball, carefully angling himself to meet the ball in the quickest time possible. He snatched it out of the air with his opposite hand, the first currently being occupied with the other ball. He was a great seeker, but he didn't trust himself to make a catch with something already in his hand. When the ball was secured, he transferred one to share a hand with the other so he could more easily steer his broom.

He landed next to Oliver, whose mouth had fallen to the ground in a combination of shock and ecstasy. Faolan rushed over to him, yipping and barking with glee in circles around his feet. Harry waited for a while, patting Faolan's head every once in a while to keep the wolf happy, but he soon grew bored of Oliver's dazed expression.

"I get it, I'm good," he began with a smirk, "but if you just stand there like that for another second I'm going to stuff this golf ball into your mouth."

That got Oliver's attention. No man ever wanted to be caught with a ball in his mouth, whether it was a ball for sports or one for… other things. His attention was caught, but his eyes still betrayed his feelings, wide and glowing with glee.

"Alright," the captain said at last, "I was going to have you catch the snitch a few times before adding in bludgers, but after that display, I think you're ready to go in the deep end. He glanced at his watch and spoke to himself. "The twins should be in History of Magic right now," he mused, "But they haven't gone to that class once in the past two years. Alright, they can take a break in their mayhem for the team."

Oliver pulled out a piece of wood shaped like a broomstick. At the end of its bristles, there **was** a button, one that Oliver pushed. Harry looked at Oliver in confusion. That wasn't something he remembered from his previous life. His ears were flooded with an unheard whisper.

" _I couldn't exactly send you back in time. The rules are quite simple, you cannot change what has already been done. So instead I put you in a timeline as close to yours as I could. It's better this way anyway. I am meant to be a guide, I cannot simply make someone all knowing. So be aware that some things will not quite be the same."_

Fate's voice faded out of his ears and were replaced by Oliver's. "—tired of letting players know when I wanted to practice, so I got a seventh year to make these. It's a Gryffindor house secret of course, so try to keep it to yourself, even from other housemates. We don't want anyone accidentally leaking it out, ay?" He posed the last bit like a joke, but if his eyes were any indication, it was anything but.

The Weasley twins hustled down to the field clinging to their chest. When they arrived in front of Oliver, they began their ping pong match of words.

"Damn it—"

"Oliver. That—"

"Bloody hurt."

Oliver wasn't in the mood for the twins' games though. At this point, he was in full quidditch mode. While he ranted at the twins, Harry began to puzzle out exactly what the mechanism did.

It had to be similar to the galleons Hermione made in fifth year for the DA. When Oliver pressed that button, it would send some kind of signal, likely a stinging hex if the Weasley twins' reaction was any indication, to the recipient's counter part, which was probably on a chain. 'But why aren't the foxes here?' Harry wondered in reference to Gryffindor's chasers, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell. He reasoned that the enchantment must be intent based. Oliver must have been thinking about how he wanted the twins when he pushed the button and so the signal only went to them. He then wondered why the twins didn't take it off, but determined that, for some reason, they must be unable to.

Oliver was just finished ordering the twins when Harry broke out of his thoughts. The rest of his tryout was comparatively more difficult to the beginning, but Harry didn't have any trouble securing his spot on the team, catching the practice snitch a whopping seven times in 30 minutes.

"Well done Harry, Oliver asserted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace with a miniature broom adornment. When he held it out to Harry, the young Gryffindor shook his head in refusal. The shock and worry flowing off of Oliver was palpable, so Harry quickly relieved the keeper.

"I'm not touching that necklace until you change the charm from a stinging hex to a cooling charm." Oliver was clearly surprised that Harry managed to work out how the necklace worked and slightly disappointed because he found pain to be a slightly more effective motivator, but, in his desperate desire for a good seeker, he nodded his assent.

The Weasley twins were not amused. "Wait! He can do that?" They spoke together incredulously. "Do it to ours."

Oliver smirked, "If a first year could figure that out, you should have too. It's not my fault you didn't think. You can't do anything about it either. Once it's put on only Jeremy can take it off or alter it."

'So the creator is identified,' Harry thought.

Oliver's smirk did not last for long because it was the Weasley twins' time now.

"Oh yeah?"

"What if we—"

"Told the vixens—"

They finished together with a 'hmm'.

Oliver paled. Unfortunately, he had not thought of the chasers' retribution when he tricked them into putting the necklaces on. Needless to say, by the end of the day the stinging hexes were replaced by cooling charms on all of their necklaces and, in compensation for his trickery, the chasers forced Oliver to get Jeremy to remove the charm that locked the necklaces in place. Harry received a kiss on each cheek from all of the chasers in thanks for his 'heroic save from tyranny'.

 **AN:** I'm terribly sorry about the delay and even more apologetic to say that updates will continue to be this slow for a while. School started for me a couple of weeks ago and, as a student athlete who takes AP courses, I don't really have a lot of spare time to write. I will do the best I can though. This also may affect the quality of my writing as I have little time to proofread, draft, and finalize these chapters. Once again I want to redirect you to chapter 2 of IDAFT – Extras. Your votes will help push this story along and may affect the overall plot. So, if you want to make a difference, please vote. The next chapter should mark the end of chapters with no action and the story will likely move a lot quicker after that. To conclude, I just want to say that I will never abandon this story without giving prior warning. So if I haven't updated in a while, don't worry, the story isn't abandoned, I'm likely just swamped with school work.


	13. Chapter 13: A Sirius Revelation

His trudge back to the Gryffindor common room was a journey that would make Filch give 100 detentions if he ever found out. If Harry was truly worried about being caught by Filch, he would have summoned Twinky to have her clean up the sweat trail left in his wake. He wasn't worried though, so he allowed the sweat that dripped down his face and off his chin leave a pathway behind him.

After showering in his dorm, Harry slumped back down the steps. He arrived to the sight of a flustered Oliver trying desperately to ward off the three vixens, but failing miserably. The twins sat on a couch watching with a bucket of popcorn between them.

Harry sat in the arm chair adjacent to them and summoned the popcorn bucket with a flick of his wand. When the twins protested he rolled his eyes and said, "C'mon guys. Just summon it back. Sharing is caring." His words were announced with a smirk.

When the twins mumbled something about not knowing the summoning charm yet, Harry sighed, took aim, and banished the popcorn bucket back into their lap. Satisfied, the twins went back to watching the drama with glee.

Harry saw no reason to watch. Sure, it was entertaining, but lots of things were and he already knew how the exchange would end. Whereas the girls had no qualms about casting spells at a boy, Oliver refused to do any harm to a girl.

It could be argued that he was ruthless on the quidditch pitch, but Oliver always claimed that that didn't count. "As soon as you step on the pitch, there are no boys and girls. Only players," he would say.

So instead of watching, Harry entertained himself by thinking about what he would do if he were placed on either side of the argument. If he was Oliver, he would realize the odds were against him. Because of this he would either strategically concede and remove the hex, or he would retreat to his dorm and ward the door (and window) against anyone if the opposite gender. That would hold the girls off until Professor McGonagall came, by which time he would have a better plan.

For the girls, the solution was much simpler. Instead of hounding the quidditch maniac to ask Jeremy to remove the hex, he would go straight to the source. Jeremy, who had nothing to gain by refusing, would surely concede rather quickly and just like that the problem would be solved.

He emerged from his thinking and realized the argument was coming to a close with Oliver calling for Jeremy. After some aggressive negotiations the deal was struck and Harry rewarded for his efforts.

With a blush and silly grin on his face, Harry swaggered his way to the Great Hall. His body hadn't quite reached the stage where he had a sexual interest in girls, his mind had and he knew that all three chasers were quite attractive. It didn't mean anything, considering he wouldn't act on it, at least not for a couple of years, but hey it was one for the pensieve so to speak.

Before he could reach his destination, he was intercepted by Malfoy. Harry subconsciously was extremely glad that Oliver decided to keep his position a secret because, while it wouldn't last long at Hogwarts, it kept Malfoy, who was always a bit impatient, from asking for a greater reward.

"Alright, I held up my end of the bargain Potter, now it's time to pay up."

Harry wasn't pleased about being blocked from eating in the Great Hall that day, but knew that a refusal would push the Malfoy heir further away. He wanted to keep the alliance going for a bit longer. When he finally succeeded in getting Sirius to break out of Azkaban, he wanted to make sure there was no 'kiss on sight' order. Though he got a kick out of it when he was safe at Grimmauld Place, Harry was sure that Sirius wouldn't be laughing at a dementor's kiss. No matter what he claimed, even the charming Sirius Black could not sway a dementor's heart.

Another benefit to losing the 'kiss on sight' order was that the dementors would not be 'guarding' Hogwarts. None of this could happen, though, without the Malfoy lord's support. He knew from his previous life that Dumbledore either didn't bother trying or was unsuccessful in blocking the dementors.

Instead of complaining (verbally at least) he nodded his head and walked towards his offering, beckoning the Malfoy heir to follow with a raised arm and a flick of his wrist. They walked in silence until Harry came to a stop in front of a painting. The painting depicted a fruit bowl, but only one of the fruits was truly important.

When Draco opened his mouth to complain, Harry raised a hand to silence him, then moved his arm so that his hand was in front of the painting. He tickled the pair and a room was revealed.

At last, he spoke. "Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchens. If you ever want a meal alone or are unsatisfied with the meal provided in the Great Hall, all you need to do is come here and ask for their assistance." He snapped his head towards the blond and emitted a furious aura. "Be aware that any physical damage done to the house elves here is reported to Dumbledore. You will surely be punished if you fail to control any potential anger."

Draco stepped back, truly intimidated, not just by Harry's words, but by the aura of power that swirled around them. He nodded his head quickly in acceptance.

Harry turned back towards the kitchen and was startled by a loud pop in front of him. A house elf brought a table in front of the two boys and asked for a food order. They obliged.

'It is very curious how house elves can apparate through the… strongest… wards.' An idea popped into his head. He stumbled to his feet, drawing a confused glance from his companion. "Errr… I just remembered that I promised to help… Ron with understanding transfiguration. Gotta go!" He hustled off.

After a few moments, Draco shrugged and turned his attention to the recently prepared food. It was hardly unusual for a Weasel to be confused and he was hungry. If Potter wanted to waste his time on a hopeless cause, well he couldn't be bothered to care.

Harry tore down the hallways and flew up the stairs, practically diving into the Gryffindor common room. Not pausing to catch his breath, he scrambled into his apartment for some privacy. What he was about to do wasn't strictly illegal, but if anyone found out he would be in a lot of trouble.

He clambered around his desk and pulled out an inkwell and some parchment. When he saw the house elf apparate around Hogwarts, he, for the first time in a while, mused about the house elves' powers. He cursed himself for not thinking about it sooner- particularly when he had Twinky do the exact same act earlier.

House elves, of course, had the ability to apparate through wards meant to prevent wizarding transportation. He recalled a book on the subject of house elves in Azkaban. In 1832, Lord Bartholomew Lestrange cleverly realized that his house elf could break him out of Azkaban. His successful escape revealed the lax security in Azkaban and eight more prisoners managed to escape before the ministry knew anything. It was a time of panic in the wizarding world and so the Minister scrambled to save face, immediately demanding the Unspeakables fix his problem.

The staff of the Department of Mysteries successfully developed a rune that prevented all magical creatures from entering a select area. Harry knew this from when he made some changes to his trunk, having used a modified version of that rune that allowed only Twinky and Faolan to teleport at their own discretion.

It was decided that the rune would be used in Azkaban, but there was three problems. Firstly, the rune took a tremendous amount of power to activate. Because of this, the second problem was that Azkaban was simply too big to cover completely with fully powered runes. Those two reasons alone were significant enough, but the real kicker was that Azkaban used house elves to clean.

The solution was simple. The Ministry had the Unspeakables place the rune to ward off every cell. With this system, the house elves could clean the guard quarters, the break room, and the hallways. No one cared about the prisoners' sanitation anyway. The decision to only use the rune in cells also significantly reduced the area that needed to be powered, fixing the other two problems.

In other words, Harry couldn't use a magical creature to break Sirius out of his cell. But he didn't need to. Sirius was capable of getting out of the cell himself. All he needed to do was give his godfather incentive to do so. This was an easy problem to solve. All he needed to do was get Sirius a letter. Therefore, he could send a creature to Azkaban's halls and have them throw the letter into his cell.

His plan only needed to be modified in terms of security, but that was easy to solve. The security would be of five stages. First of all, he wouldn't use either of his creatures. Instead he would use the Black family house elf, Kreacher. That was risky by itself because he could easily be identified as the Black heir and therefore the only one capable of ordering Kreacher, but the second and third security measure would compensate. At that moment he made a mental note to get another elf in secret to be used for missions like this.

His second security measure was that he would be using a disillusionment charm on Kreacher. That should prevent the Black house elf from being identified. To further that, the third thing he would do is order Kreacher not to say a word. While he doubted that anyone really paid attention to house elves' voices, there was no reason not to keep Kreacher's voice secret.

To communicate, Harry would write a letter to Sirius and that letter would contain the fourth and fifth layer of secrecy. First, he would be charming an envelope to only open when a passphrase was spoken. To give Sirius the password, he would use two words that only six people alive would understand. 'Marauder's Map'. Considering none of the people in the know were Aurors, he considered the password 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,' a good one. In conjunction with that, 'mischief managed' would cause the letter and envelope to burn up.

Finally, his letter would be coded carefully. This safety measure was kind of redundant considering the code was understandable to some of the people who knew the passwords, but he couldn't think of any other way and decided that if his passwords failed through auror investigation, his letter wouldn't.

Just to be sure that no one would associate him with the letter, Harry wrote carefully with his left hand, making is handwriting unrecognizable. Satisfied, he stepped out of his trunk and called for Kreacher.

The house elf appeared on his bed and immediately began to grumble. "Kreacher doesn't know why he felt the need to come here. He was attending to his poor mistress when he was ordered to this bed by a brat. Yes, yes, Kreacher wonders how the brat could summon him."

The elf's eyes widened when Harry showed the Black heir ring to him. Harry ignored his surprise. "Give me some of your blood in a vial. I need it to allow you access to my trunk." He was careful to word it so that Kreacher wouldn't intentionally misinterpret his order.

He likely didn't need to be so clear as the house elf obeyed immediately without complaint, clearly still shocked. Harry added Kreacher to the magical creatures allowed in his trunk and had the house elf follow him into his apartment.

He brought the elf to his desk, pausing to give Hedwig a couple of strokes and Faolan a rub on the tummy. He sat down and turned to face Kreacher. "I'm going to put this simply. I am prepared to help the House of Black rose up to its former glory, something that I know you desperately desire. I need your help to break the current lord of Black out of Azkaban."

"The filthy blood traitor," Kreacher moaned, apparently regaining his senses, "Broke his mistress heart, oh yes he did. Why should Kreacher help him out and listen to a half blood?"

"Well I could just order you to do it, but honestly I'm well aware that eventually I'd slip up and you'd find a way to disobey. That being said, if you give me your complete loyalty, starting with this mission, I will complete Regulus' final wish." When the house elf's eyes widened again, Harry confirmed his knowledge. "Yes, I know about the locket and I know exactly how to destroy it. Help me- help Sirius and I will bring the House of Black to glory, starting with removing that taint."

Kreacher had tears in his eyes and wailed his response, "Kreacher will do as master orders."

"Good. Now I am going to cast a disillusionment charm on you. I want you to apparate to the halls of Azkaban and find Sirius. I know that you can't enter his cell. You wont have to. I need you to throw this," he held up the letter enclosed in an envelope, "into his cell. Do not say a word. You must not be identified. Can you do this?"

Instead of responding, Kreacher grabbed the letter and popped away, leaving Harry behind to worry about all the things that could go wrong.

Kreacher appeared in the maximum security wing of Azkaban. It was dark, never seeing light except for when the guards patrolled. Even then the only light was a meager lumos. Still, to the prisoners, that lumos might as well have been the sun.

The hall echoed an unseen drip of water and as the elf walked further down the halls screams of torment began to mix in a symphony. A crazed laugh joined the mix, dancing through notes in mania. One cell was painted in blood, scraped away from the body in self torture to escape hell. Another, coated in food, thrown at the demons that didn't exist. The cell with the crazy laugh had an image carved in its walls, accented by the blood that came from scratching it in. The dark mark was drawn, by a woman he felt a slight pull to. 'Bellatrix,' Kreacher thought.

He ignored the pull and kept walking, intent on completing his mission for his new master. The House of Black would rise once more and, while he preferred their blood remain pure, he supposed some sacrifices had to be made. Unfortunately Bellatrix would only pull the house down.

At Minister Bagnold's insistence, Sirius Black, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's right hand man, was placed in the deepest cell of Azkaban's maximum security wing. Directly next him was Bellatrix Lestrange, then Rodolphus Lestrange, then his brother, Rabastan, followed by Antonin Dolohov, and so on. The most dangerous Death Eaters were deeper down the wing.

The only problem was, they got the order wrong. Sirius, who was the farthest thing from a Death Eater as one could get, was deemed the most dangerous and so he had to put up with Bellatrix's bill shit daily. Unlike the masses in the other cells, Sirius' walls were barely decorated, their only adornment was a series of lines. Most assumed that it was the amount of days since his master's defeat. Others thought it was the amount if days since his capture. No one could be bothered to count the lines to confirm which theory was correct. Had they counted, the first would have been confirmed 'true'. In a sense it was true, it did mark the amount of days since Voldemort's defeat, but to Sirius it meant something very different. To Sirius it was the days since James and Lily died. His brother and sister in all but blood.

At the moment, Sirius was curled up in the corner of his cell as a grim. It had been a particularly painful day for him, the memories of James and Lily disappearing quicker than normal. They weren't gone, not really, but he couldn't remember them until he was freed from the dementor's grasp and had a chance to clean the clutter of his mind.

He shot up, instantly alert, and transformed back. As a grim he had an instinctual knowledge of when someone was approaching and he needed to keep his form a secret. It was his only relieve in this hellish nightmare. When he looked through his bars and down the hallway, he found himself confused. His instinct was never wrong, but he saw no one approaching. He shrugged and sighed in disappointment. Yet another thing had been torn away from him by Azkaban, this time his animagus form's ability.

He slumped to the back of his cell to continue his suffering, but whirled around when he felt something hit his back. Again, he looked around, first in his cell, then down the hall. He saw no one. On his cell floor, though, there was an envelope. It was unheard of for a prisoner of Azkaban to get mail. Apparently anything from the outside world would make them more rowdy. Curious he picked up the letter.

On its front were two words that he hadn't seen in a long time. 'Marauder's Map' it read. Though the memories were all, but forgotten, his hatred of Peter kept the Marauders' memory alive and with it, their password and motto. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he croaked with a voice that was raw from disuse.

The envelope burned in a fire, but his hands didn't feel the heat. As the envelope peaked away into ash, a parchment was left behind with words that would change his life forever:

Messieur Padfoot,

Ì find myself most disappointed to knów thàt you betrayed yòur dear, ìnnocent friends. If only they had been able to èscape, then young Harry would have parents. They say Lily Potter saved Harry's life ùsing the power of love. I must say that I am grateful that our savior was spared. Such a thought is so grím that I just cannot fathom it. I hope you mèet your end ìn a fashion that leaves you screaming more than the voice from the Shríeking Shàck.

The true message was extremely subtle and, had Sirius not read the letter more than once in horror, his deteriorated brain would never have noticed it. Some words in the letter had an accented letter and when those words were put together they gave a new message. 'I know that your(e) innocent. Escape using grim. Meet in Shrieking Shack.' Sirius' first thought was that Remus had finally realized the truth. But reality kicked in. There was no way that Remus could get a letter into Azkaban. He just didn't have the resources to do it. The only problem was that Sirius couldn't think of anyone else who could do it. Peter probably could sneak through the prison, but the rat animagus had no way across the water. No one else knew the password for the Marauder's Map.

All the same, he made up his mind and said, "Mischief Managed." As Sirius morphed into Padfoot, the paper curled up on the floor and burned into ashes. He easily slipped through the bars and slunk through the prison. After a desperate swim across the sea, he found land again and he used all of his remaining energy to apparate to the shack.

His last conscious thoughts were 'someone knows I'm innocent. If I die today, at least someone knows.'

As soon as Kreacher left, Harry prepared his dorm bed to make it look like he was sleeping. After a couple of transfigurations he was satisfied and he summoned Twinky, asking Faolan to stay by his bed to keep up appearances right after. Harry shrunk his trunk and put it in his pocket. When the house elf arrived he asked her to bring him to the shrieking shack. When he arrived, he resized his trunk and plopped it on the ground. Strategically speaking, he shouldn't have gone to the shack at all; he should have had Twinky bring the trunk and wait for Sirius. The irrational bit of him that wanted to see Sirius as soon as possible overruled strategy, though, so he sat on his trunk and waited.

It took a couple of hours and several rounds of tic-tac-toe and rock, paper, scissors with Twinky, but Sirius arrived with a POP and his body was sprawled across the floor, unconscious. Immediately, Twinky grabbed the Black lord and apparated him into Harry's apartment, laying him out on a bed in the first guest room. She poured a couple of potion vials down his throat before deciding that he needed rest and she brought Harry and his trunk back to Hogwarts.

It was only 8:30 when Harry got back, so his efforts to make it look like he was sleeping turned out to be unnecessary. To be fair it shouldn't have only taken two hours for Sirius to escape, but shouldn't never was the equivalent of wouldn't.

He undid his transfigurations and slumped into his bed. Doing nothing for two hours straight certainly made him feel tired. With an hour and a half before he normally went to bed, though, Harry decided to do one more thing.

Down in the ritual compartment, Harry withdrew several vials of blood containing a single liter of blood. It had been quite tricky to get the exact amount and the withdrawal itself involved two blood replenishing potions, but it would soon all be worth it. Harry leaned over the rune carving of together and slowly poured the blood, making sure not to waste a single drop. Carving the rune to contain exactly one liter of blood was an agonizingly slow and monotonous project that Harry had only finished the day before after hundreds of attempts. He used water to test the exact volume of the rune carving. By that time, 'Reparo' had become his least favorite spell, a spell that he would forever associate with failure.

As the grimoire instructed, Harry took a tuft of Faolan's fur and placed it onto the rune. He sandwiched it with his right hand and grabbed Faolan's paw with his left. As he channeled his magic a surge of clarity rushed through him, a blinding headache, and then a soothing embrace.

He looked to Faolan as if wondering if the ritual had worked. His question was answered with a single word.

 _Hello._

 **AN:** So I have good news and bad news. The good news is I got really sick so I got this chapter finished a lot more quickly then I expected. The bad news is I got really sick ;-;. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As always, I wish to redirect you to IDAFT – Extras chapter 2 where I am asking your opinion as to who will be on what side. If you notice any errors in my writing, please sent me a PM and I will fix it as soon as possible. Next chapter will include the lunch that was mentioned previously. Thank you all and I look forward to your responses.

 **AN2:** A couple of people have asked why Kreacher didnt apparate Sirius out of Azkaban after he escaped his cell, so I will address that now. Essentially, Harry rushed the escape. He threw together a hasty plan and was so intent on doing it perfectly that he forgot the simple things. This will be a common thing in the story. Harry's knowledge of the future will make him overcomplicate things.


	14. Chapter 14: A History of Relations

Harry woke up the next morning with a massive headache. Trying to share thoughts with a hyperactive wolf until midnight had been a terrible idea. On the bright side, he and Faolan had now gotten used to the whole mind sharing thing and had established some basic boundaries.

In addition to his headache, he had a deep feeling of self-loathing and despair. Sirius still hadn't woken up. His reunion with his godfather wasn't filled with hugs and promises of a better life in the future as he had expected. Instead, all Harry had was a comatose godfather who was incredibly pale and gaunt. In what Harry could only assume to be nightmares, Sirius would whimper and cry in agony, occasionally shifting back and forth into Padfoot.

Harry pulled at his bed curtains and wrung them in his hands, relishing the burning feeling he got if he did it too harshly. It was no less than he deserved. Rushing a plan to save Sirius had been a foolishly Gryffindorish move. Not that being a Gryffindor was bad, but hasty plans almost always led to consequences and Gryffindors were notorious for making them.

In hindsight, there were so many things Harry could have done better to optimize results. But paranoia and haste had made him foolish in this case. He could have sent Kreacher with the healing potions instead of having Twinky administer them when Sirius finally arrived. Treatment received two minutes sooner could make a difference of two hours in recovery. He also could have had Kreacher wait for Sirius in the halls of Azkaban until Padfoot slipped through the bars. That would have saved Sirius' energy. Instead he had Sirius swim through the cold, rough sea surrounding Azkaban.

He felt guilty, he did, but, in the end, he knew that those were simply unbiased guilds that would serve no purpose. Yes, he had fucked up, but the result was still the same. Sirius was free and on the path to recovery. He could beat himself up over it or he could take the lesson and move on. Harry preferred the second option.

He set about his morning exercise routine, ending it with a nice steamer shower as always. At this point, Faolan was awake.

" _Wanna play catch? I wanna play catch. Let's go play catch,"_ he whined, but Harry wasn't taking any of it.

" _I think not. It's time for breakfast and, quite frankly, I'm starving."_

" _So after that then?"_

" _No, then I have Transfiguration."_

" _So after that?"_

" _No, then I have charms."_

" _So then we'll play, right?"_

" _No, then I have history o—on second though, sure we can play catch then."_

History of Magic was boring enough the first time, Harry wasn't entirely sure he could live through another seven years with Binns. Faolan sung Harry's praises as they walked down to the Great Hall.

They walked together in silence to the Great Hall. Their feet and paws echoed off of the school walls and ceiling to guide their way. When they arrived, it was to a relatively empty room, a couple of early risers chewing food slowly. There was no need to rush. Class wasn't going to begin for another hour.

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table and filled his plate with waffles and sausage. He 'accidentally' dropped a link for Faolan to eat. While his familiar didn't _need_ to eat, he definitely liked to and Harry couldn't bring himself to say no to a simple request.

Unlike the rest of the hall, Harry ate at a normal pace, not slow, but not fast either. While the rest of Hogwarts may have been willing to push away their time, Harry preferred to be productive. His previous lifetime gave an example of what would become of him otherwise.

Finishing up, he picked his plate up and brought it to the end of the table where a house elf would surely pick it up later. Without breaking a stride, he continued out of the hall and headed to the quidditch pitch.

To most people, flying could be considered a waste of time, something that was merely for entertainment and not for daily use. Harry disagreed. For the average person, flying would never be a necessity, but Harry was preparing for a war that still had not begun. His recollection of the flying fighters in the previous battle of Hogwarts offered him enough incentive to get good at aerial combat. When it was taken into consideration that Voldemort, his all-time enemy could fly unassisted and fight efficiently in the air, it was a no-brainer that Harry ought to be able to counter that.

He took off into the air with his Nimbus 2000. This time, Harry, who had no fear of being caught with contraband because of his trunk's security, already owned his Nimbus and, as such, he had no need for McGonagall to gift him one.

While the Nimbus 2000 was no where near as good as the Firebolt he would one day get, it was perfect for his level of learning. Currently, Harry was an extremely good flier, quicker than most and able to move about with ease. Because of that, he didn't feel the need to use a training broom while he worked out some of his planned stunts. However, while the Firebolt had better response time than the Nimbus 2000, it was significantly faster and would offer Harry less time to think about how he wanted to move and act. Therefore, the Nimbus was safer to use while he gained his bearings in combative maneuvers. Besides, the Firebolt wouldn't even be announced to the public for another three years, much less built.

As a seeker, Harry did have one advantage over others in broom combat. Most people relied on both hands, unsure of their grip when flying at a high speed, but Harry, a natural on a broom who only grew better, had no such issue. He could fly with one hand on the broom and another raised, capable of firing spells or, in quidditch, catching a snitch.

Harry maneuvered his broom through the air, making sure his right hand was always off of the broom like he was holding a wand. He practiced feints and sloth-grip rolls for dodging which was the most important aspect of combative defense. Then he began to barrel roll on his broom, over and over again. This was practice for an offensive charge. Not only would it make him slightly more difficult to hit, but it would also spread out his spell fire, making dodging impossible if a person was caught off guard. Granted, it wouldn't work on Voldemort or even of the inner circle death eaters, but, for fighters like Crabbe and Goyle senior and junior, it would be enough and, when fighting people who wanted to kill, simply put, the less people trying to kill the better.

At last, he swooped to the ground and landed with a crouch. Casting a quick 'Scorgify' on himself to rid himself of the light sheen of sweat on his face, Harry began to make his way to the transfiguration classroom, using secret passageways along the way to shorten his journey through mind boggling entrances and exits.

Transfiguration and charms passed by slowly and were relatively uneventful. He left the pack of Gryffindors to head to the clock tower courtyard to play fetch with his eager familiar.

His disappearance did not go unnoticed. Among the pack of lions, Hermione frowned at the sight of her classmate skiving off. She turned to one of her dorm mates, Lavender Brown, to complain.

"Harry Potter isn't following us to History of Magic," she stated.

Lavender started out of her gossip with Parvati Patil and looked around, trying to identify the source of rude interruption towards a sacred act. Finally, her eyes reached Hermione's.

"I'm sorry," she said sweetly. "What was that?"

Hermione let the sides of her lips fall in displeasure, but kept her silence on that matter. "Harry Potter doesn't seem to be going to History of Magic."

Lavender and Pavarti looked at each other and giggled. "Nice, he must be doing something fun like working out or practicing magic," Lavender licked her lips, imagining a perfectly sculpted body that, realistically could not belong to Harry Potter. "It's my turn to copy the notes for Gryffindor today, otherwise I'd be reading this." She whipped out a witch's fashion magazine from the waistline of her below-guidelines skirt.

"But that's against the rules and what do you mean it's your turn to write the notes?"

"Oh, well it's something that Gryffindors have done for years apparently. Because five boys and five girls reside in every dorm, we each assign ourselves a day for someone to do the notes on while the rest take a nap or something. By the way, you have the day after tomorrow."

Hermione snorted in anger. "That's cheating. I most certainly will not give you my notes."

The gossip girls groaned. "We thought so," Parvati sighed, "but we held out hope that you had some degree of chill within you. Oh well, I'll just get my sister Padma to take your day. She won't mind." The girls skipped forward, leaving Hermione in a sulk behind them.

When the Gryffindors sans Harry arrived at Professor Binns' classroom, they all filed into their seats. If ever someone wanted to learn the hierarchy of Hogwarts students, History of Magic would be the best place to look. Amongst the dusty classroom, there were several different chairs and desks. Some chairs were cushioned, some were arm chairs, and then some were the basic, worn wooden chairs that had been used since before Professor Binns was even a student. The tables ranged from large open tables to fancy study desks. A couple had soft tops for students to rest their head on. There was even a single king-sized bed in the corner.

The reason for that was rather simple. In the year 1954, some students grew so tired of having stiff joints and muscles after falling asleep in Binns' class that they decided to make it more comfortable. Every desk and chair was changed for personal preference when one particularly resourceful student handed a list to a house elf with a forged signature of Professor Binns.

The students were extremely happy about the change, but failed to take into account the history professor's opinion, considering him too old to care. But Professor Binns wasn't dead yet and he absolutely hated change of any kind. He barely even tolerated the new classes joining and the old leaving.

Rumors said that Binns, despite his old age, took up his wand in secret and hexed every student he could from that class. Some students were so frightened that they asked the house elves to retrieve their old desk and chair. But that was another change and Binns kept hexing them. Over time, the remaining students who hadn't succumbed to Binns' rage learned that there was no benefit to reverting their desk and decided that if they were to suffer, they might as well earn it. So those more comfortable desks, chairs, and the single bed remained and no one cared to attempt to change the room again.

Then, in 1968, Binns died. The students were secretly ecstatic; no longer would they have to suffer through Binns' boring lectures. Their happiness was short lived when Binns reported to class the next day as a ghost.

On the bright side, now, as a ghost, he couldn't use magic, so a couple of brave students once again got the house elves to change the room. Those students failed to take into account how easily a ghost can ruin one's life. Apparently Binns haunted then every night, gazing through their walls and lecturing them on the importance of history with a booming, droning voice, keeping not only them, but their dorm mates awake. Eventually, those students decided to take one for the team and dropped out of Hogwarts, being the first in over a century to do so.

No student to date had dared to change Binns' room until that day and so the ghost was satisfied and the room soon became an example of the students' social power. Today, as usual, Malfoy claimed the bed. Before he closed his eyes, he glared at everyone in the room daring them to question his social power.

The most comfortable desks were claimed by the rest of the Slytherins who rode on Malfoy's coat tail, or, rather, his father's. Then, the adequately comfy desks were clamped by the Gryffindors who were far less likely to get in trouble in a dispute with the biased headmaster and deputy. The Ravenclaws claimed the desks with the most space where they studied history desperately, determined to claim an O on the end of the year exams, despite Binns' boring lectures. Finally, the Hufflepuffs claimed the old desks. They were far too kind to try and claim a better desk for themselves.

If Harry were so inclined to, he could flip the social hierarchy and have Malfoy and the Slytherins claim the Gryffindors' seats while they claimed the better ones. But he didn't care. Even when he did attend the class he would set his trunk on an uncomfortable chair and jump inside his apartment, carefully setting it to the right compartment before entering the room so no one could guess his password.

On this day, though, Hermione Granger was determined to have him be properly punished for his blatant disrespect of a Professor. She was one of the 'oddballs' of the students who claimed a desk amongst other houses. She, of course, had a large desk, for walking comfort for her studies, and sat amongst the Ravenclaws.

Once all the students had settled in, Hermione raised her hand to get the history Professor's attention. Binns, unused to ever having a student interrupt his lecture, droned on, unaware of Hermione's hand waving in the air. Eventually, the girl grew fed up and resided that she was doing more good than harm by interrupting the Professor to inform him of something he surely would want to know.

"Professor?" she called out, awakening a few curious students who knew something interesting was about to happen. When he turned to look at her with his ghostly eyebrows raised in surprise, she continued on. "I just wanted you to know that Harry Potter is skipping your class."

Instantly, with this single statement, every student who wasn't already avoiding her decided to ostracize her for their own good. A student snitching on another was one thing, telling of a student skipping history was slightly worse, but somewhat acceptable. But snitching on Harry Potter? Well that couldn't be forgiven.

Professor Binns' response confused and amused the class. "Who?" he asked.

"Harry Potter," Hermione stated, smug in her anticipation of the Professor's praise for her proper action. She was to be disappointed.

"Ah, yes! Jerry Porter- he was instrumental in the goblin rebellions, though not commonly acknowledged for his significant contributions. Nice chap too, always offered a lollipop to anyone he met. Anyways…" he continued his rant like nothing happened, leaving Hermione red with embarrassment and angered, stewing in her chair.

When the class ended, she marched out, determined to tell another Professor of the miscreant's transgressions. She froze in her tracks when Harry nonchalantly walked to the Great Hall to get some lunch, whistling a tune that only he would recognize.

"HARRY POTTER! HOW DARE YOU SKIP A CLASS. YOU OUGHT TO HAVE SEVERAL DETENTIONS FOR THAT!" She screamed her frustrations at Harry, grabbing his attention.

"Oh, hey Hermione. Didn't see you there. Listen, I have a meeting to get to, so I'll talk to you later, yea?" He spun on his heel and continued on his merry way to the Great Hall. Behind him Hermione stomped off again to find a Professor, even if it cost her her lunch. Surely Professor McGonagall would punish him… right?

Harry opened the Great Hall doors and paused to collect himself. What had Hermione been yelling about again? History of Magic? 'Meh,' he thought, 'It was probably unimportant anyways.'

 _She was mad at you for skipping History of Magic_

 _Oh… thanks Faolan. That's going to be a difficult conversation to get out of. Ugh… I'll worry about it after lunch. For now I have to perform perfectly._

 _Why? Is this some kind of mating ceremony?_

 _What? No! It's just that this lunch meeting has significant political meaning. If I want everything to go smoothly for my future plans, this has to be perfect._

Faolan woofed his amused understanding as Harry's cheeks flooded pink. After reminding himself to have _words_ with Faolan later, he walked to a shadowy corner of the Great Hall and disillusioned himself. Now blending in with the background, Harry walked back to the Great Hall entrance and snuck out the doors as some students entered. His plan was rather simple. While he could have sat at the Slytherin table to wait for Daphne, the message would become significantly less effective. The student's would be so caught up on the chosen one sitting at the table of snake's that they wouldn't notice who sat down next to him.

To counter that, Harry decided to wait for Daphne to sit down and walk in a bit later, making an extravagant greeting to draw attention to both of them rather than just him. He didn't have to wait long before Daphne came up to the doors. He had to admire her stoic face which gave no indication that this lunch would be any different than the previous. He waved his wand in a complicated motion in order to reveal his Potter ring without revealing the rest of him. He then quickly tapped Daphne on the shoulder before she could enter the hall.

She jumped in surprise and looked around for the perpetrator, eventually catching sight of Harry's ring. When he was sure she noticed, he recast the disillusion spell causing the ring to disappear. He could have just willed it to become invisible, but he was already using the disillusion spell and there was no point in vanishing the ring only to make it reappear after he canceled his spell. He was just too lazy for that.

Daphne stood still for a second, trying to make sense of Harry's actions until her eyes lit up in understanding and she nodded. She schooled her face to indifference once more and opened the door to the Great Hall, walking slowly and deliberately to the Slytherin table.

Harry waited 3 minutes and 27 seconds before following her example and entering the Great Hall, the time being significant solely for its lack of significance. He walked at a slightly slower pace than normal to make sure he was recognized by some of his more avid fans and then he turned to the Slytherin table and headed towards Daphne.

When he was behind her, he gave a slight bow and spoke. "Greetings Heiress Greengrass, I Lord Hadrian James Potter wonder whether I might have the privilege of your company for this meal," he was over doing it and they both knew it, but this was a case where too much was a good thing.

She stood up and fell into a curtsey. "Greetings Lord Potter. It would be to my delight if you would," she said with an imperceptible smirk, holding out her hand for him to kiss. Once the formalities were done Harry took a seat, aiming sure that Daphne had her chance to get comfortable again in her place before he claimed his. Throughout their exchange, whispers echoed through the Great Hall, rumors spreading quickly. Harry pretended to be oblivious.

 _Are you sure that wasn't a mating ritual?_

Harry blushed again, but refused to give Faolan the luxury of an answer this time. He slowly made a sandwich and began to eat engaging Daphne in conversation between mouthfuls. Below the table, he tossed a note in her lap, asking to meet on the seventh floor to plan more privately after lunch.

Meanwhile, at the staff table, Dumbledore peered over his glasses with a wine goblet topped to his mouth. The goblet didn't contain wine, it contained melted down lemon drops, but if anyone wanted to assume it was an expensive wine, he wouldn't correct them. In his head, he calculated ways he could use Harry's new acquaintance in his plans. On one hand, having an 'in' besides Severus in the Slytherin common room could prove beneficial, but Harry's association with the Slytherin could cause problems in the future. Dumbledore was no fool. He was very aware that not all Slytherins were evil, despite what he subtly manipulated his followers into believing. All the same, his recruitment centralized on Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws who believed Slytherins to be the worst sort of people and, if he wanted to use Harry as a rally point, which he certainly did, having Harry be friendly with a Slytherin could spell problems. All the same, he would watch with interest and if, or when, the relationship began to be a hindrance, he would intervene.

When they had their final bites, Harry whispered to Daphne under the guise of drinking from his goblet, "How shall we end this display with a bang?"

She followed his lead and whispered the same way, "Does a joint declaration of protection work for you?"

"It does, but it may seem fishy if we do it in our 'first meeting'. I think we should leave together and be seen conversing with each other around the castle a bit more before announcing it." When Daphne nodded her agreement, he whispered one last time. "I tossed a location in your lap. If you need to do anything after we leave, feel free to do so, but try to meet me there in say… an hour?"

She nodded and they stood up, once again drawing the attention of the hall. This time, Ron, who had been too busy stuffing his face the first time to notice anything, looked up and saw where Harry stood. Inside he waged a mental war, he wanted to warn Harry that snakes couldn't be trusted, but he also wanted to have another sandwich or too. Eventually, he decided that his seventh sandwich wouldn't eat itself and he settled back in to gobbling his food.

Draco Malfoy also made note of their connection and decided that he would meet Harry in private about it at another time. The Greengrasses were not part of his father's voting block, so if Harry believed he could get them to vote with his father, then he would support their acquaintanceship. If Harry could not, though, well he supposed he'd have to have Daphne punished for not recognizing her betters. Perhaps a marriage contract was in order. He cackled gleefully in his head. Of course, he could have done all of that now, but it wouldn't do for the Malfoy heir to be seen following anybody, oh no, Malfoy's followed no one… except for their fathers, the Dark Lord, and anyone else who could hand their asses to them while they weren't protected.

In the Ministry of Magic, the chaos wasn't so juvenile as who was sitting with who. In his office, the Minister paced, wringing his bowler cap in his hands in anxiety. His political standing would surely take a political hit when news of Black's escape got out, he had resigned himself to that, but he needed to minimalist the damage.

His Undersecretary, Dolores, spoke up in a sweet tone, "Cornelius, surely you don't need to worry. Just tell the people everything is under control and that Black poses no danger."

Fudge growled in frustration, "That's a lie and, while I have no problem with lying for the good of the public, they would never believe it."

Dolores giggled, "Then have those who revolt arrested. You are the Minister of Magic, your word is law and to go against it is treason."

Cornelius sighed, "It doesn't work like that Dolores. If the public gets a petition with enough signatures, they can force the Wizengammot to vote on my suitability as a minister and have me replaced if necessary. With Black on the loose, I would surely lose my position."

"Lord Malfoy would never allow that," Dolores screeched in outrage. She was right, Lucius would prevent the Wizengammot from taking his position. It was nice to have a powerful ally like that. But it would also cost the minister at least 3 months of 'donations' and he needed that money to buy his retirement island that he'd been saving up for since becoming Minister of Magic. His eyes glazed over as he imagined himself lazing on his private island while Wizarding Britain fell to shambles begging for him to come back.

"That is true, Delores, but he would surely ask for something in return."

"You are the Minister of Magic and Lord Malfoy is a respected member of wizarding society. Surely he wouldn't ask anything for doing the wizarding world a favor.

Cornelius let his head fall into his hands. Dolores was an idiot, but his wife left him long ago when she learned about him accepting bribes and Dolores was all to willing to satisfy his needs in her place. Life as the minister sure was hard work… but there was a solution that just might work. It was time for the dementors to take a field trip in order to protect the most probable target, Harry Potter.1

 **AN:** Hello all. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As always, if you are a new reader, I ask that you check out chapter two of my other story, IDAFT – Extras, and submit your vote. If you notice any errors in my writing or have any questions, please feel free to either PM me or leave a review. I make an effort to respond to every one that isn't a review that only says 'nice chapter' (because what am I supposed to say…) Anyways, I finally had the lunch with Daphne and gave a bit of a peak into the MoM. Terribly sorry for any images I may have given you at the end. Trust me, I cringed while writing it.


	15. Chapter 15: What Has Harry Done?

Harry was unsurprised, but disappointed when he received news that the dementors would be guarding Hogwarts. He once again had to face an internal battle, this time over whether he should reveal his powerful patronus, seeming like the next Merlin in doing so, or just suffer endlessly. In the end, Faolan made the decision for him.

 _The dementors are bad news I tell you! They make you feel sad and the entire school's spirit seems to have gone down. Most importantly, their presence means we can't go outside to play fetch and I want to play. Fix it._

And so Harry did. It took a considerable amount of time an effort on his end to get it done, but in the end, he successfully manipulated a situation where Fudge's closest advisor would tell him to return the dementors to where the sun didn't shine.

He wasn't exactly happy with the way he solved the situation, but nothing bad happened, so in the end there was no issue. He had convinced Draco to meet him at the Great Lake, claiming that he had a business proposition and didn't want anyone to hear of it. Draco's initial protest spluttered out when Harry made mention of the portraits' all-hearing ears and their compulsion to report to a certain headmaster.

When the day of their supposed business meeting came, Harry followed Draco under a disillusionment charm, giving the blond the impression that he was alone. Had Draco been alone, he might have actually been fine, but Harry was with him and the boy-who-lived was a dementor magnet. They swarmed around the pair and Draco ran away screaming about how his father would hear about it.

It was against Harry's nature to manipulate people like that, especially if it meant putting them in danger, but he reasoned that nothing would go wrong and, if it did, he could always use his patronus to ward the dementors away. Besides, there was no love lost between Harry and Draco.

The next day, Harry approached Draco in mock concern asking why the blond hadn't met with him. It was hard not to give away his involvement when Draco talked about how the dementors inexplicably swarmed him and nearly ended the Malfoy line. Harry also had trouble hiding his amusement when Draco spun the tale to make it sound like he had chased the dementors away and had only missed the meeting because the effort took out all of his energy.

Anyways, Lucius Malfoy paid a visit to the dear minister and made a rather large donation to the Ministry. Suddenly, the dementors were gone from Hogwarts and nobody could ever be any happier… well except for Dobby when he acquired a new pair of socks.

From then on, everything had been relatively normal at Hogwarts. Sure, he was gawked at like a museum display when he ambled down the halls, but that was the story of his life. He could handle that and would do so gladly, if only to receive a few days of peace like he had for the past few weeks.

Quickly the days flew by zooming past like a seeker in pursuit of the golden snitch. At last, the peaceful monotony would come to an end as Harry woke up on the day of Halloween. It was a Thursday, the day in which everyone moaned and groaned and wished it were Friday, but knew it could not be so.

As usual, Harry went through his morning routine, though today he lightened the work load a bit. While he knew that not everything would remain the same from his previous life, he was nearly certain that he would end up fighting a troll today. Fighting a troll alone was bad enough, but doing it while sore was just asking for trouble.

Sure, he could just use 'wingardium leviosa' on the club and knock the troll out, but to be honest, that plan never should have worked the first time. Trolls had an iron strong grip on their clubs and rarely loosened it up, even when they were swinging. Further, their skulls were extremely thick, weak only in one spot on the back. The amount of luck Ron had on that day in his previous life was simply unbelievable.

No, Harry was going to do things skillfully this time. Especially considering he couldn't just use raw power lest he give away his talents. His plan already required sacrificing any doubt that he was a transfiguration prodigy. In his pocket, he carried a couple of fireworks.

After doing some intense research on trolls for the past week, he had discovered a weakness that trolls, and indeed, several other creatures had. Their tongue was usually soft. The usage of that weakness, though took a lot of strategy and the execution of the plan he came up with required a lot of skill. But it should work. It had to work if Harry didn't want to just cast an overpowered 'bombarda' at the troll's head.

Harry's plan was so brilliant in its stupidity. True, no average first year could pull it off, but, if they had the skill, they certainly might have tried it, having little to no knowledge about trolls. First, he would light the firework. Hedwig was ecstatic to be put to work when Harry sent her to order some 'long fuse' fireworks from Zonko's. Asking a favor of the twins, Harry had then distract Filch for an hour while Hedwig returned with her bounty. All they asked for in return was a couple of fireworks for themselves. Thankfully, Harry asked them before sending Hedwig off, so he rewrote his order to double the amount. That was the easy part if the plan. The hard part would happen in his encounter.

Harry walked out of the Gryffindor common room with wet hair dripping droplets down his face. He could have used a drying charm to remedy that, but he believed his hair felt softer if he let it dry naturally.

On his way down the steps he ran into Nearly Headless Nick… or, rather, he walked through him. "Hello Sir. Nicholas. How are you today?" he asked, politely, trying to make up for his blindly walking through the Gryffindor house ghost.

"Ah, Harry Potter! Oh, I'm alright I suppose, a bit disappointed, though unsurprised."

Harry raised an eyebrow curiously, "Disappointed? Why? Anything I can help you with?" What was only supposed to be a polite exchange had become slightly intriguing to Harry.

"Well, unless you have a way to get this," he pushed his head to the side and pointed at the thin piece of ghostly flesh that bonded head and torso together, "to go away, then no. It's my death day, you know and all I want, as I do every year is to join the Headless Hunt. But, noooo, less than one measly inch of flesh sees to Sir. Patrick Delaney-Podmore refusing my request every year."

Harry blinked. He had honestly forgotten about Nearly Headless Nick's death day and, in this life time, he was learning of it a year early. Truthfully, he was pretty sure he couldn't help the beloved house ghost, but he did want to make up for his ghostly faux de pas so he offered a solution, knowing that it had surely been attempted before.

"Have you tried, I dunno… ripping it off yourself? I mean, you can interact with your head, right? So, shouldn't you be able to pull it off."

Nicholas gave a confused look, a decisively strange appearance in conjunction with his toppled head. "Huh… never thought about it like that. Wouldn't it hurt though?"

Harry dumbfounded with everything in this situation could only answer with: "I dunno, you're the ghost aren't you?"

And so, Sir. Nicholas de Minsy Porpington placed a hand on each side of his head, readjusted it to be straight above his shoulders and then pulled up as hard as he could. Harry the top spun around with unheard of speed, desperate to avoid witnessing such a gruesomely disgusting display.

All he heard was a pop and, after a couple of minutes, he decided it must be safe to turn around. The sight that greeted him shouldn't have surprised him after his years in the magical world, but it did nonetheless. Sir. Nicholas floated with his head tucked beneath his shoulder like a quaffle, smiling.

"Cheers, Mr. Potter. Thank you for making an old soul's wish come true. Now I'm off to hand in my resignation to the headmaster. I fear that with my head no longer on my shoulders, my sense if direction is a bit off. I'll be sure to give him your regards."

Before Harry could protest, Sir. Nicholas was gone, disappearing through a wall with a stagger. Inside his head he was screaming: _What just happened?_

 _Well, I believe you just assisted with the decapitation of a ghost and rid Gryffindor of its house ghost._

 _Thanks Faolan…_

 _No problem!_

Harry walked down the corridor at a slow pace, reasonably off balanced by the previous affair. Deciding he needed to talk to another _human_ about the situation, Harry walked to Great Hall. When he arrived, he surveyed the room. At the Hufflepuff table, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott sat side by side. He took a seat on the bench across from them.

Susan looked up and smiled. "Oh, hey Harry! What's up?"

Harry chuckled darkly, "You know, the usual. I just apparently assisted with the self-decapitation of a ghost. That was pretty neat."

Hannah stared at him while Susan did a spit-take. "You what?" they asked at the same time.

"You know what? You'll probably hear what happened later. You know how Hogwarts is. Nothing stays a secret for long."

That was the truth. Nothing at Hogwarts would ever be a secret for more than an hour. News was simply to easy to spread. Portraits would spot you and words would echo through the hollowed halls, stretching out to nab curious ears. Being a Hogwarts student was a blessing and a curse. One could never keep their secrets, but would always know others'. That suited Harry just fine. His student life had no need for secrets and his personal life, where secrets were most important, was mainly contained within his trunk.

Harry ate his breakfast in silence. He finished quickly, as he wasn't slowed by conversation, and stood up.

He didn't have classes that day as Dumbledore, presumably in an effort to hype up the legend of the boy-who-lived, had declared Halloween a holiday that the school would take a day off to celebrate. Harry understood the people's desire to celebrate and didn't begrudge them for it. What ticked him off, though, was the mandatory feast at the end of the day. He, who had lost all potential for family in youth on that day, had no reason to celebrate and therefore did not want to feast. He also wondered why anyone would think it a good idea to force people to do something on a day of 'celebration'. It seemed counter intuitive.

Shaking such unimportant thoughts off, Harry headed back to his trunk to do some studying. While he didn't want to waste energy that could be used in his fight with the troll, he also didn't want to slack off. Studying was the obvious answer to such a problem, an act that required no magic, but still benefited his future.

He sat in his study with a few books of interest and read. As he had been lately, Harry was doing some research on brooms for combative flight scenarios:

 _Brooms are similar to wands in that they respond to the user's magic. They know if a user has a fear of heights because that user's magic subconsciously wills it to stay on the ground. That is why flight instructors have begun their tutelage with the 'UP' lesson for centuries. It is a basic safety precaution. Should a user be terrified of flight, but decide to hop on a broom and take off anyway, they will more than likely crash. As such, the 'UP' lesson weeds out the fearful so that their flight instructors may be more cautious over their teaching._

That piece if reading brought about an interesting thought for Harry. If brooms were magic responders then, theoretically, a broom matched to a person like a wand might be, could respond better than a basic Nimbus or Cleansweep. If that theory proved true, having a custom broom would certainly be advantageous in quidditch and in combat.

Additionally, a broom may be able to cast spells, though it would be dangerous to conduct the wand movements. Harry was weary about testing that theory. While it should work, he wondered if having the intent to cast a spell would interfere with the intent to fly. He was confidant, however, that, with the right broom, he would be able to cast a lumos from its end to light up his path.

This theorizing meant nothing anyway. He knew only one person who he could trust with the information who also had the skill to build such an invention and, since he didn't want to send his information via owl in fear of it being intercepted, it would be months before he could even get his idea to Markus and probably years before the broom was actually made. Yes, he would certainly act when summer came, but for now, his thoughts would be better used elsewhere.

Instead of worrying about possibilities, Harry decided to worry about certainties, namely his rescue of the philosopher's stone. Though technically it wasn't a certainty, it may as well have been. Harry held all the cards in this situation, already knowing exactly what Voldemort planned on doing. Alternate universe or not, some things would never change and Voldemort always did have a flare for dramatics. There is no way his days of attack wouldn't be Halloween and the end of the school year – his last second victory where he could laugh at how his enemies thought they had persevered.

Harry already knew that the attempt tonight would be foiled. There were simply too many factors against Voldemort for him to succeed. For one thing he didn't know about any of the protections yet. Sure, he was powerful enough to break through each room by force, but he would not be fast enough to get the stone before someone noticed. Which lead into his second disadvantage. Dumbledore was in the castle and would be the one to stop him if he got too far.

Neither of those would matter though as, if things went how they did the first time, Snape would be the one to intervene. Despite Snape's interference in his work, Voldemort would never kill the potions master. At least, not yet. For one thing, for all Voldemort knew, Snape had no idea who was trying to steal the stone and Shape was far too valuable to just be killed. It was difficult enough getting the man into Dumbledore's confidence, and the dark lord wouldn't be enthusiastic over an encore.

No, Harry wasn't worried about the attempt that would be made that night. He was worried about the second attempt. Harry believed that in a one in one fight, his odds of winning were about 40 percent, even with his mother's protection. There was no purpose in risking such odds when he could simply prevent the encounter from happening.

He planned to make his way through the traps some time after Christmas when he would have his cloak for cover. When he got the stone, he would send it back to the Flames and warn them about its pursuer. He wouldn't bother leaving a trap behind. Voldemort was far too skilled to be caught off guard like that and, even if he was caught by the trap, only Quirrell's body would be affected. If Dumbledore was to be believed, Quirrell was already dead. While he was warned not to trust Dumbledore anymore, the fact that he couldn't see thestrals until after witnessing Cedric's death backed up the headmaster's statement.

Setting a trap would do nothing but warn Dumbledore that there was a third player in the mix. Harry did not consider himself powerful enough yet to openly join the fight. He couldn't afford to tip his hand just to get bragging rights over a wraith.

Finally feeling hungry, Harry left his trunk to go to the Great Hall again. He could have eaten in his trunk and, honestly, he would have preferred to, but being seen among other students was part if keeping up appearances.

He had a nice talk with Faolan as he walked and then desired to sit with Daphne again when he arrived.

"Hello, Daphne," he greeted, causing her to look up from the sandwich she was daintily eating. "It looked like you needed some company, so I decided to join you."

It was true, she did look rather lonely, sitting alone in the middle of the Slytherin table. Apparently, amongst the Slytherin, she only had two friends. The first was Tracey Davis. Apparently she and Daphne had a fight over something and so currently Tracey was sitting amongst the other Slytherin first years, being mostly ignored because of her status as a half-blood.

Daphne's other friend was a pureblood by the name of Blaise Zabini. Blaise was considered a lesser pureblood amongst the supremacists, being the son of a pureblood and a half-blood. That alone had him on the edge of the top of the Slytherin hierarchy. However, he was even more isolated because of his mother and the circumstances of his birth.

Blaise's mother was now known as a notorious black widow, having gone through seven husbands already. Now she hunted in the muggle world, but to get her hunt started she needed enough money to meet people worth stealing from.

Fortunately for her, she found a man who was the last of his line. His name was Roman Zabini and he was the last of a well-liked pureblood house. In pureblood wizarding society, a man would never leave his wife his fortune if he died. Instead, it would be inherited by their eldest son who, in turn, would need to provide a monthly allowance to the rest of the family based on the size of their fortune. If no son was born, the fortune would go to the next closest male kin who had no such obligation.

Blaise's mother was clever though. She took a fertility potion and snuck a 'love' potion into his drink. Using the lust caused by the potion, Blaise's mother slept with Roman Zabini and was soon pregnant with Blaise. While she was pregnant, Roman, still constantly fed amortentia, proposed to her, making the yet to be born Blaise a technically legitimate heir.

They eloped quickly and, at the coaxing of Blaise's mother, no one was invited to the wedding. She didn't want anyone to know about their sudden marriage. As soon as Blaise was born she slit Roman's throat and, at last, the Zabini fortune was hers… if only indirectly.

After a couple of years if saving her allowances, she finally had enough money to afford a luxurious muggle cruise. There, she met husband number two. This time she didn't need to sleep with the man, she just needed him to write her into his will. So they wed, she convinced him that his job was dangerous and that he ought to write a will, and she killed him as well.

The third time Lady Zabini's husband died, people grew suspicious, and the fourth time, they were sure. Though nobody could prove it, it was obvious that she had killed Roman Zabini.

The goblins, fearful of outrage from their wealthy clients 'suddenly' remembered an ancient law that stated if a female harmed their lord in any way they no longer needed to be payed an allowance. Using some goblin magic, an unusable piece of evidence in the Wizengammot, the goblins determined that Lady Zabini had, in fact, killed her husband and blocked her from the Zabini account.

The goblins were tricky, however, and never liked being bossed around by witches and wizards, so they decided to help one mage if it meant hurting the rest. They warned Lady Zabini just before blocking her and, while she couldn't touch any if the original Zabini fortune, she was able to move all of the gold she had collected to another vault.

When she didn't appear to be poor, the purebloods ran to the goblins and complained. The goblins told them with a sharp-toothed grin that Lady Zabini had moved her personal fortune out of the Zabini vault before they could do anything. Of course they apologized for the inconvenience, but they also insinuated that Lady Zabini's bounty was no longer in their bank. They didn't lie, but they certainly made people believe the false fact.

The purebloods ate the story up, but were still outraged. They desired to shun Lady Zabini and to try to ruin her life, but by that point she had already moved to live almost entirely in the muggle world and continued to kill, amassing her fortune without consequence.

And then Blaise came to Hogwarts. The purebloods, still holding a grudge against Lady Zabini decided that if they couldn't shun her, they would shun her child. They wouldn't hurt him – it wouldn't due to have those of lesser blood see them hurting a lord – but they never turned over the opportunity to glare at him and told their heirs to do the same.

About a week into Hogwarts, Blaise grew tired of the glares. Now he only left his room to attend classes. He would have the Zabini house elf bring him his meals and would study on his bed.

So, Daphne sat alone for meals unless Harry sat with her. Recently he had spent at least one meal a day at the Slytherin table and slowly their relationship built. It was nearly time to announce their alliance publicly. This visit was cut short, though, when a bird of fire appeared on his plate.

"Fawkes," he whispered. Within the bird's talons, there was a note from Dumbledore. _Meet me in my office, Harry,_ it read. Harry knew that the headmaster would try to make himself seem all seeing when he told Harry to come in without a single knock, so Harry decides to throw him off a bit.

"Hey, Fawkes. You mind bringing me straight into his office?"

The phoenix let out a trill of amusement and grabbed Harry's shirt. With a flash of fire, the phoenix and Harry disappeared from the Great Hall.

He landed softly on his feet in front of the startled headmaster. He smiled charmingly and said, "Greetings, headmaster. You summoned me?"

Dumbledore quickly schooled his expression and tried to turn the encounter back into his control with a twinkle in his eye. "Ah, Harry my boy! I see you've become good friends with Fawkes." Dumbledore was actually quite pleased with the relationship between Harry and his phoenix. He wondered if he could have the same thing happen in public. Surely the people would rally around Harry and, at the same time, think of him as Dumbledore's apprentice. That would be quite a nice image in his mind. When Harry didn't respind, he trudged on. "I recently learned that I will be needing a new Gryffindor house ghost," he claimed with a grandfather's smile, "That was a kind act you did for Sir Nicholas; quite ingenious too, I might add."

Harry returned the same fake smile, "Thank you headmaster, though I'm surprised that someone of your intelligence didn't think of it years ago." He spoke like the headmaster was his idol, but there was a subtle barb hidden behind his words.

Dumbledore noticed it and winced, but chalked it up to the clueless nature of a child. Surely Harry wasn't smart enough to hide a jab behind such a smile. Not without years under Dumbledore's own tutelage!

"Yes, sometimes the hardest solutions to think of are the ones right under our noses," he claimed wisely.

Harry acted confused. "Are you saying you couldn't come up with the idea because your nose is so big, sir? If that's the case, then how has Professor Snape invented so many potions? His nose is huge."

Again Dumbledore winced at the childish naivety. Children could be so cruel sometimes without even knowing it. It was best to sit back and let it happen, though. It worked for the Marauder's after all. Harry would come to believe him without question just like the late James Potter. So he chuckled and agreed. "Yes, my boy, his nose is rather large, though that isn't exactly what I meant."

"Oh."

"Yes, well, anyways, since you were so helpful to a humble servant of Hogwarts who worked tirelessly for years, I figured I would give you an honor that hasn't been given in Hogwarts history." Gush plan had been spontaneous. When he learned of Nicks new status, he had a brilliant idea to make Harry love him even more. "You, my boy, get the honor of naming the new Gryffindor house ghost!"

Harry paused for a moment. He hadn't seen this event coming and he wasn't sure who to choose. It was true that he had met many of the Hogwarts ghosts at Sir Nicholas' death day party in his previous life, but the smell of rotting food mystery have put mold on his brain that made him forget them. There was only one option he could think of and he knew his father would get a kick out of it from the land beyond. Unfortunately, the spirit wasn't a ghost. He asked anyway.

"What about Peeves sir? I mean, I know he's technically not a ghost, bit he's cñose enough, right. The only ghost I know is Moaning Myrtle and she isn't exactñy house ghost material, especial not Gryffindor. And Peeves basically defines a Gryffindor…" On and on Harry rambled. Sure, Peeves becoming the Gryffindor house ghost had no effect on his plans, but it would be bloody funny and the childish response would certainly add to his attempted appearance. He ended his ramble with: "…and I'm certain someone of your talents could control him if he got too out if hand."

When it was said like that, Dumbledore had no choice but to accept. No one could control Peeves except the Bloody Baron, but Dumbledore had no plans to tell Harry that. Besides, if the worst came about, he could always blackmail the Slytherin house ghost into controlling Peeves by threatening to tell the story about how he got the blood on his robes. Argus would certainly be pissed with him, but Dumbledore honestly didn't care. The only reason he kept Filch around was to appear as the benevolent grandfather of all.

"Sure, Harry," he began, but his glasses flashed and he was visually taken to an image of the Great Hall.

"Troll! Troll in the dungeon! Just thought you ought to know," claimed Quirrell, before dropping into a faint. The pandemonium was presumably deafening, but Dumbledore, who only had access to vision of the Great Hall couldn't hear it. He stood up importantly and looked at Harry.

"It seems we have unwanted visitors in the castle. Please head back to the Gryffindor house dorms." Dumbledore disappeared to give orders to the Great Hall and the teachers. Severus would need to run interference when Quirrell snuck out and Dumbledore needed to witness Harry coming to the rescue of Miss Granger.

Meanwhile, Harry rushed out of Dumbledore's office, intent in saving Hermione. He wasn't there when Ron claimed she didn't have any friends this time, but he heard that she was crying in the bathroom and assumed it happened.

He whirled around the corner and nearly collided face first into a large, smelly beast. The troll roared with spittle flying from its mouth, but Harry played that no heed. For, behind the enraged troll, lay the crushed and bloodied body of Blaise Zabini.

"Shit."

 **AN:** Hello all! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As usual, please leave a review or PM me with any opinions or corrections you have about my story. Originally, this chapter was meant to include the battle with the troll, but the story of Blaise's mother appeared in my head and I couldn't let it go. Anyways, my soccer season has cone to a close, so updates should be coming out a bit more frequently!


	16. Chapter 16: To Battle Trolls and Demons

Harry cursed and swore until his tongue felt dry. This was not how things were supposed to happen. It was meant to be so simple, he would find the troll and then rescue Hermione to gain her trust and friendship. He even had a plan that should have been flawless. But plans never lasted long in the face of conflict and now Harry was faced with a scenario he wasn't prepared for.

That wasn't entirely true. He was still facing a troll and he still did carry around the supplies he intended to use to beat it. But he would be unable to save Hermione. Sure, he could beat the troll, but by that point he wouldn't reach Hermione in time. She was as good as dead.

He briefly considered sending Faolan to save her, but discarded the notion after moments of thought. After teleporting around one day with his familiar, he found himself quite drained with a tiny cut between his fingers oozing an amount of blood that seemed unreal for the size of the parted skin. He quickly surmised that something about traveling through shadows made the blood flow rate speed up, forcing more blood out of any openings.

Considering the troll was likely at the girl's bathroom by now and Hermione was likely sporting a couple if cuts more significant than paper cuts, he couldn't risk having Faolan carry her through shadows.

He glanced past the troll and saw the Italian's crumpled form again. He couldn't save Hermione. He knew that, but perhaps Blaise had a chance.

 _Faolan, go to the hospital wing and bring Madam Pomfrey to Blaise. Hopefully I will have taken care of the troll by then._

Faolan whined at the order, unhappy about leaving Harry on his own to face a dangerous foe, but he didn't voice any complaints. He dove into the shadows and left Harry behind.

Harry released a breath of hope for the grievously injured boy before getting to work. From within his robes he pulled out the long fuse fireworks that he had acquired from the twins. He had three of them. He had three shots at defeating this troll.

He cast a controlled 'incendio' at the first firework's fuse and let the wand movement roll into an intent based transfiguration spell. The spell took hold and the firework morphed into a dart. Phase one of this plan was completed, but the hard part was to come.

He ran circles around the troll, teasing it and laughing at every failed attempt, each swing of the club adding fuel to his hysterics. His plan was to frustrate the troll and make it yell in fury, but he failed to take into account one of trolls' most basic characteristics. They were stupid. So stupid, in fact, that they wouldn't understand the taunting of wizards.

In Harry's hand, the dart morphed back into a firework and the fuse quickly burnt away, leaving Harry little time to save himself from the coming blast. He launched the firework, not caring where it landed and his face was covered in the remnant smoke of the explosion. Lungs were filled with smoke and Harry struggled to breathe.

When Harry reached up to brush the soot out of his eyes, he felt a sharp sting and brought his fingers down to beneath his chin for observance. They were still covered in soot, of course, but that soot was tainted scarlet from a gash beneath Harry's left eye. A gash that made war paint from his life fuel. The blood trickled down his face and caught the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips and got a taste of salty soot. The texture burned his throat and he hacked of a few coughs before spitting pink saliva to the floor. His blunder didn't only hurt him though.

The firework tossed just moments ago landed behind one of Hogwarts' many suits of armor and exploded, launching fragmented, burning hot metal through the air. It covered the corridor and got caught in cracks of stone, marring the already time-chiseled walls of Hogwart, causing mayhem to everything within its reach.

The troll wasn't as lucky as Harry when the shrapnel launched out. For the most part, its thick skin protected it and the shrapnel fell down once it lost its propelling force. Indeed, below its neck the troll showed no sign of injury. The face, had too many flaws to escape so uninjured. With larger targets of vulnerability on its face than a human, something was bound to get hurt. Nothing fatal, the chips of shrapnel were far to small to break through the troll's significant defenses, but two bits of metal did draw blood.

The first piece was lodged up its nose, causing a waterfall of crimson to cascade from its nostril pressured forth with each breath of fury. Harry didn't want to spend too much time looking up the troll's nose, but he did get a good enough view up those wide nostrils to notice that the piece was triangular and upright, the two bottom points trapped between the snot-lined walls of the inner nose. The cut was technically from the inside, so it drew blood, but it wasn't a very significant wound and Harry doubted that it was the source of the troll's fury.

No, that source came from a far more painful incision, one that made Harry very grateful for his good luck. Like Harry, the troll also had war paint beneath its eye, but unlike Harry it wasn't from a cut in the skin. Lodged within the troll's retina and stabbing into its iris, was a small piece of shrapnel, shaped like a nail, head included.

That was surely the true source of the troll's pain and Harry felt a moment of sympathy for the agony of the monstrous creature. That feeling disappeared just as quickly when the troll desperately swung its club at Harry and Harry once again caught a short glimpse of the bloodied body of Blaise Zabini.

Harry lit his second firework and let out a roar of fury, powered by the agony of pain and potential loss. It was true that he wasn't friends with Blaise, but Daphne was and Harry cared far more for his friends than he did for himself.

The troll took Harry's shout as a challenge and made its final mistake. It let out a roar as well, leaving its tongue wide open for an attack. Harry launched the firework in the form of a dart and pierced the troll's tongue, giving it an adornment that even the most fanatical piercing collectors wouldn't want to have.

The troll closed its mouth in confusion. The object the human threw hurt a bit, but the mouth was for food and, therefore, whatever landed in its mouth was food, right? It swallowed and the powerful flood of saliva within its mouth dislodged the dart and sent it down his throat. Before the dart reached the destructive digestive acid of its stomach, the dart reconfigured to its original form, that of a larger cylindrical shape. The firework was positioned conveniently upright and its top blocked the saliva from reaching its fuse. The troll began to choke, the firework being lodged just above where the wind pipe met the throat before reaching for the lungs.

Suffocation would not be the cause of death. The troll could only afford one final look at the defiant green orbs of Harry Potter before the fuse reached its end and the firework exploded, destroying everything contained in the troll's neck and a bit beyond.

Harry didn't stop to admire his work or to despair over his actions. Instead, he rushed over to the crumpled figure and flipped him onto his back to inspect the damage. As if summoned, Madam Pomfrey appeared from nowhere with Faolan and a confused look graced her face.

Faolan, who had grown tired of playing Lassie with the Hogwarts matron, decided to just bite her clothes and take them away, falling through the shadow beneath his belly.

Her eyes fell upon Blaise and she shoved Harry to the side to examine the prone boy. She waved her wand frantically to find diagnostics and Harry found himself holding his breath, waiting for the result. Eventually, her wand ceased its movement and she let out a heavy sigh. She looked up with a mournful look and, with a complicated flick, she sent off a patronus to fetch the headmaster.

Harry stared in shock - the boy couldn't be dead. He was only eleven and had a whole life ahead of him. He seemed to have a staring contest with the boy, sure that he would soon be declared the victor when the boy's chest lurched up and his eyes closed. But air never made its way into Blaise's lungs, and his eyes never closed.

Harry continued staring, even after Madam Pomfrey conjured a strecher and set the boy upon it before leading him away. His eyes never strayed from the smeared outline of sticky fluid that once marked the boy's body. His eyes never wavered from the cold stone floor where the boy once was. He just sat on his knees and stared, unmoving. He wouldn't return to the Gryffindor common room until hours later when Neville stumbled upon him and led the dazed boy back compassionately.

While Harry rushed to try and get to the girl's bathroom, Dumbledore apparated into the Great Hall to bring peace to his students. He let the pandemonium riot for a while longer before raising his wand to his throat and casting a silent 'sonorus'.

"SILENCE! If everyone would please remain calm, the staff and I will take care of our uninvited guests." He put on a relaxed smile to portray the calm and collected grandfather that he was to the general public, whilst internally he fumed.

Dumbledore would freely admit to himself that he was a manipulative man, but he did take his job as the headmaster seriously. True, he knowingly allowed a form of the dark lord onto the campus and left a coveted pinnacle of alchemy within the school's walls, but really it should have been under control.

In the past, Tom would have set something up to lure Dumbledore away, before blowing through anyone who stood in his way, but this time he seemed willing to make open displays. Tom never was afraid to sacrifice innocents, but he was also a reasonably smart man who tried not to be excessive in his use of resources. To send trolls into Hogwarts seemed a bit excessive and also had the potential to kill or demotivate any potential followers for when he regained his body.

In truth, Dumbledore knew nothing about Voldemort. He still saw him as the youth he taught: dark in leaning, but still charismatic and reasonable. Eleven or twelve years ago it might have been correct, but towards Voldemort's end, the dark lord's lust for power and usage of horcruxes consumed in a cocoon of selfishness and hate. When he lost his body, those feelings multiplied into uncontainable amounts. He would do anything to regain his body and future followers were nothing but ants in the grand scheme of things. Dumbledore would come to learn this, but not before significant damage was done.

The headmaster waited a few seconds for the terror to die down before addressing the masses. "Prefects, I want you to lead your housemates back to the common room. Take them to the very back and order yourselves so that the youngest are the most secure." He looked around and searched his staff, choosing from them the adequate fighters, the ones who couldn't defeat a troll on their own, but could hold it off long enough for the students to retreat and then escape themselves.

"Spetima, would you please accompany the Ravenclaws on their journey back to their nest?" When she nodded, he turned to the ancient runes professor. "Bathsheba, I would greatly appreciate it if you would escort the Slytherins back to their chambers and Pomona, please take the Hufflepuffs back to their sett." Internally he was panicking, those were the only three adequate magic users he could think of. He quickly realized that he didn't necessarily need people talented with magic to be the escort. It was a good thing that he only had the Gryffindors left, though. Any other house might not have been so receptive to his final escort.

"Hagrid, would you please escort the Gryffindors back to their den. I know I can count on you to see them there safely."

Hagrid puffed out his chest in pride and is cheeks tinted slightly. "Erf course, Professor Dumbledore, sir. I'll see 'em there safely," he boasted in a gruff voice with pride.

With the students now on their way to their common rooms, Dumbledore looked at the remaining teachers. His first priority was stopping Tom from getting the stone so he sent Severus off with a significant look. The man nodded and turned on his heel, tearing out of the hall with long strides and his cloak billowing behind him.

Now, all that remained were Minerva, Filius, Charity, Sybill, Aurora, Silvanus, and Rolanda. Quirinus had long since slipped out of the Great Hall and Cuthbert was likely still lecturing about the Goblin Wars to an empty classroom. Not that he'd be of any help in this situation anyway. Irma and Argues never ate in the Great Hall. Irma was paranoid of students messing with her books while she was absent, so she ate in a glass box that allowed her full vision of the library. Argus just hated everyone and didn't want to be near them. Finally, Poppy was likely in the hospital wing.

Among the group that remained he trusted only four to be able to take on a troll on their own. Silvanus, his care of magical creatures professor, was very capable of taking on a troll, but he was also missing a leg and an eye, something which would surely get in the way of pursuing the beast. Minerva and Filius were both very reliable in combat and would have no issue defeating a troll. He was certain he could count on them to get the job done. Finally, Rolanda who, despite being a flight instructor, was very talented with a wand, was also capable of defeating a troll, though he wasn't sure if she could avoid extreme injury in the event of such a fight.

Quickly, his mind calculated their individual strengths and he came up with the best approach. "Okay, Charity, Sybill, Aurora, and Silvanus. I want you four to stay here. Silvanus, I know you're not quite as limber as you once were, but I trust that you are capable of guarding the Great Hall?" At Kettleburn's affirmative nod, he continued. "Rolanda, I want you to quickly grab your broom and fly over the Hogwarts grounds. If you see any trolls roaming around, feel free to take them out however you wish." By that he basically meant rain spells down from the air until the troll couldn't breathe any more, but offering her a choice was a common curtesy and he dared not be so crass about death. "Minerva I want you to take the dungeons and floors one through three. Filius I will take you to floor four where I want you to search it and the three floors above it. Understand?"

"Excuse me, Albus, but didn't Quirinus say 'Troll in the dungeons' as in a singular troll?" He inquired in a squeaky voice.

"Ah, yes Filius, that he did, but I think we all know that no troll is intelligent enough to get into Hogwarts on its own. It had help and I cannot trust that there aren't any others in the castle. So, shall we get to work?" When everybody nodded yes, Dumbledore took Flitwick to the fourth floor before disappearing again. No one thought to ask what Dumbledore would be doing to ensure Hogwarts' security.

Before Dumbledore summoned Harry to his office, the Fat Friar told him that a young Gryffindor muggle-born had been crying in the bathroom all day. At the time he shook it off, engaging in his philosophy of letting things happen, but now he smelled an opportunity.

He quickly found a troll and lured it to the bathroom where the girl wept, casting a disillusionment charm on himself just after rounding the corner. The troll was confused by the loss of his initial target, but quickly moved on to the sound of a weeping girl who seemed to be vulnerable prey.

It smashed its club into the bathroom door, shattering it like glass and sending wood chips flying in every direction. Inside the bathroom a young girl screeched in fear as a club swung wildly through the room, destroying sinks, toilets, stall walls, and anything else that lay in its path. Then it found its target.

The girl shrunk into a corner and the once loud, sobbing tears, grew silent with fear. The club raised up and she turned her head in terror. Everything she had read stated that one swing of a trolls club was enough to crush a human's bones into a fine powder. The air disappeared and rang in anticipation of claiming the final breath of a young soul.

Then the room flashed red. Hermione shrieked in pain, her mind automatically associating red with blood and blood with pain. She was dead, she knew it. The voice of God spoke and criticized her actions.

"A wonderful young girl like you should not waste her time crying by the chamber pots, she should learn and grow with a smile on her face." God chuckled and she couldn't help but laugh too.

"So this is what death is like," she mumbled to herself, "It's not so bad."

"I'm sure it is nothing but the next great adventure, my girl," God told her affectionately, "but I am pleased to say that you have more of your current adventure to go and have little time for another."

Slowly, she looked up and saw the wizened old man who stared back at her at every meal before his gaze flickered to another. "Headmaster Dumbledore!" She looked around and spotted the fallen troll feet away from her by Dumbledore's feet. "Y-you saved me." He gave her a reassuring smile and a humble look – like what he had just done was nothing compared to his daily life and she concluded that it probably was nothing to him. He was a great and powerful wizard, after all, which just made her admire him more as he took time out of his busy schedule to lead the important education for those of the future.

She looked at the troll, the instrument if death and frowned. "Is it… is it dead?" she asked with a trembling voice.

"No. No, it is merely unconscious, though I may have overpowered my stunner a bit too much, so it will wake up with a nasty headache tomorrow. It is a small price to pay for trying to harm one of my students wouldn't you agree?" He asked with a reassuring smile. "No, I believe that everyone, human or creature, deserves a second chance. Death and cruelty are never the answer to any situation." He looked down at her with haunted, far away eyes as an old man who had seen many evils. Yet he still didn't believe death was the answer. At that moment, Hermione had a revelation. Dumbledore wasn't God. She was sure of that. But he was damn near close to it.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you…"

He smiled at her and his eyes twinkle. "How about we go to my office and have a nice cup of tea. I hear it does wonders after particularly stressful times."

He held out his arm and she tentatively grabbed it. Her final thoughts before appearing in his office were that of amazement.

'But apparation on Hogwarts grounds is impossible,' she thought. Dumbledore was truly god-like.

Harry didn't sleep well that night. The room never felt right, always too hot or too cold, and the sweat stuck his body to the sheets, like he was the melting Honeyduke's chocolate bar and the sheets were the wrapper. Except he wasn't sweet like chocolate.

He would toss and turn when he did get fall asleep, each time waking up with an angry scream and, were it not for the several healing spells he had cast, his hand would surely be as shattered as the wall. He absent mindedly cast a 'reparo' at his bedroom wall. On most nights, he slept in his bed provided by Hogwarts in the Gryffindor dorms with the curtains drawn, but easily opened. All of the other boys did the same. But tonight he had no desire to fulfill the expectations of the house of lions. He wanted to be left alone and damn it he would be.

He had shut his curtains and activated the locking feature on them. They could only be opened from the inside now, though Dumbledore, as the headmaster, was able to open them from the outside if he so desired.

Giving up on a full night of rest, Harry got up and walked through the halls of his trunk. They were barren, undecorated and that angered Harry. Surely he and Blaise could have become friends, bonded through the friendship they shared with Daphne. Surely the walls could have been decorated with pictures of the two of the laughing in the middle of a group of compatriots. Surely… he sighed. He grabbed a bottle of butterbeer and chugged it down before throwing the empty bottle at the wall in fury.

It was funny. He never knew Blaise all that well. Not in this life and certainly not in the previous. Yet he mourned and mourned for the loss of the boy, images of what could have been flying through his head with agonizing details. He didn't know the boy, but he felt like he did through the vivid stories, illustrated in his fiendish imagination.

He cast an banishing charm at the shards of glass from his bottle, making them vanish into nothingness. Then he cast a 'scourgify' at the wall, ridding it of any remnant butterbeer that had stuck to the bottom of his bottle.

He found himself walking towards Sirius' room. The man still hadn't woke up and, according to Twinky, there was a possibility that he never would. Sirius' brain was already extremely damaged by long term exposure to dementors, but his magic kept his body functioning as normally as a body could when malnourished in hell. Then Harry had him apparate. The shear jarring motion caused by the twists of the tubular teleportation was bad enough for his damaged brain, but, when Sirius desperately made his way to the Shrieking Shack through apparation, he used the last of his magic. Without magic, his mind felt the true effects of its condition and Sirius fell into a coma. Harry was a fuck up. It would take a miracle to awaken his beloved godfather.

He returned to his bed and finally found the temporary luxury of sleep after a couple of hours. He would need to wake up in another three.

It had been about a week since the incident and Harry still blamed himself. He was well aware of the fact that realistically there was nothing he could have done, but his rational brain was overruled by his ever irrational heart.

He had been unable to reach Daphne to offer her comfort for her loss. The girl always had a tight clamp on her emotions, but the recent event must have proven too much for her as she hadn't left her dorm room. All of the teachers were sympathetic… except for Binns, but that was because he didn't even realize she wasn't in class. No one assigned her detention and she was apparently given a reasonable amount of leniency regarding the due dates of assignments. All of the work she was required to complete were delivered to her by Tracey.

There is almost nothing stronger than a bond over loss and the friendship between Daphne and Tracey had been reforged with grasps of iron and steel. Tracey, though, as a half-blood and a free spirit felt no need to mask her emotions so, instead of hiding out with Daphne, she openly wept in class whenever the slightest thing reminded her of the lost Italian.

That summarized the sadness Harry felt, but there was a deep building of anger within him. Learning of Hermione's survival had been nice, but it did little to quell the raging inferno within. In the week that had passed, Blaise's mother hadn't even made a single appearance. According to the Hogwarts rumor mill, Dumbledore sent her an owl everyday offering his condolences and asking if she had any wishes regarding her deceased son. After a couple of days, she sent a response that said something along the lines of "Thank you for letting me know. Do with him as you wish." Another three days passed before Dumbledore conceded defeat and a public burial was held by the Great Lakes.

It was a terrible funeral and the only ones who spoke of his life were Dumbledore and Snape.

"It is a sad day when we have to bury one younger than ourselves, one who had a life of success and happiness ahead if them," Dumbledore intoned, "but it is even sadder when we have to bury one who died in terror at the end of evil. Blaise Zabini was promising student and, though I never was able to talk with him myself, I know that he was a wonderful person and will sorely be missed by his many, many friends." That was mostly true, Harry supposed, Blaise would be sorely missed by his friends, but their count was far from many.

The 'wonderful person' segment was a bit of a stretch too. Blaise didn't talk much to anyone other than Tracey and Daphne, but when he did, it was said that he was a bit if a dick. Not that he didn't have a reason for his behavior, far from it. His negligent mother and cold treatment from pears lay reason for his actions, but still, saying he was a wonderful person was a lie. Realistically, though, it would be considered insensitive and political suicide for Dumbledore to say otherwise at the boy's funeral. It is poor behavior to speak ill of the dead and all that.

Following Dumbledore's speech, Snape came up to the ornate podium, conjured and decorated with black flowers for the occasion, and gave his speech. It wasn't much of a speech, but it also didn't contain any lies.

"Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin. He was an adequate student."

Only Snape could get away with gifting no praise at a funeral. He offered a glare at the crowd, challenging them to complain about his words. They didn't. He spun on his heel and walked back into the castle, his black cloak billowing in the wind behind him as Blaise's coffin was slowly lowered into the dirt.

 **AN:** You know, I was honestly surprised by the outcry people had when I hinted at Blaise's demise. I mean, I haven't really even introduced him as a character – other than some minor back story – and I hardly expected anyone to feel loss over the character. Truth be told, I've been planning on killing him off since chapter 3. His death was your warning. I have no qualms about killing characters off and no one is safe. I will say that I don't have plans to kill anyone off for the rest of first year, but I can be spontaneous at times. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and, as always, leave a review or send me a PM with any corrections, inquiries, or responses.


	17. Chapter 17: Quidditch Quirrells

Harry's saving grace from guilty insanity was quidditch. The Gryffindor v. Slytherin game was set to be the day after next and Oliver was determined to come out of it as the victor. They had practiced for six hours a day for the past couple of days and Harry had thrown himself into it. Unlike the rest of the team, he never complained about Oliver's fanatical scheduling. Not once.

Flying was something that relaxed him. With his hair being ruffled by the wind and the scenery blurring by, nothing seemed to matter other than him, his broom, and, when he was chasing it, the snitch.

For the latest practices, Harry hadn't been using his Nimbus. It was a tradition at Hogwarts that the opposing team would haze any new players by sabotaging their first game in some way. Granted, they were facing Slytherin, so the game would be dirty anyway, but it would be particularly bad for the fresh meat, Harry.

Typically, he would just let it happen. Who was he to deny tradition? The Gryffindor v. Slytherin game, though, marked Voldemort's first attempt to try to kill him in ten years. Because of that, any further sabotage to Harry's first game would be… bad for his health.

So Harry's nimbus sat idle in his trunk along with his quidditch equipment. Fred and George were clever enough to hide their brooms for their first game, but left their quidditch gear in the Gryffindor locker room. Their first game was played with one hand stuck to their broom and the other stuck to the beater's bat. The second wouldn't have been so bad, but the bat had a sticking charm as well and was soon attached to their leg before they could even hit the bludger once.

Without being able to affect his things, the Slytherins were left with only two other options: hit _him_ with a spell or take him out in the game through legal or illegal play.

That's how they got Oliver in his first game. The two beaters kept the bludger between them and moved it down the field until they could fire it at Oliver's head point blank.

Thankfully, Harry wasn't burdened by the mostly stagnant position of keeper and was easily the best flier on the pitch with the more superior broom. That strategy wouldn't work on him.

The Slytherins would have difficulty hexing him as well. He traveled from class to class with Faolan and ate all of his meals (which were prepared by Twinky to avoid potions) in the Gryffindor common room. He sat in the back corner of every class so that no one could take him by surprise and, considering his class contained only first years, no one was able to land a hit on the Gryffindor 'prodigy'.

The only plausible options from Slytherin were to fire bludgers at him until they landed a lucky shot, or to have one of their players charge him. He wasn't concerned about a player firing a spell at him on the pitch as the rules of quidditch said that no spell casting was allowed on the pitch and any violator was subject to ejection. Even if they tried it, there was no way they could hit him with their first shot and they wouldn't risk losing any more players after the first ejection.

Harry had a plan to counter their other two options. It wasn't flawless, but it was as close to flawless as he could find. Besides, as soon as Voldemort started bewitching his broom, the Slytherins would likely stop and assume that one of their housemates in the stands was doing it for them.

He explained his plan to his teammates the day before the match. They were gathered on the quidditch field and Oliver had just finished giving a speech that surely would've been inspiring if anyone was listening.

"I'm planning in using the Evanzo tactic tomorrow," Harry claimed. Oliver gasped, while everyone else just looked confused. Harry wasn't surprised. It wasn't a well known tactic, but Oliver was a quidditch fanatic who had read pretty much every quidditch book there was.

"That's risky," Oliver commented.

"Yes, it is, but do you honestly think any of them are skilled enough to exploit its weakness?"

"I suppose not."

Fred interjected, "Do you mind filling the rest of us in? What the bloody hell is the Evanzo tactic?"

Harry gave Oliver a look that surrendered the right to explain. "The Evanzo tactic is a tactic that begins before the game and stays in play until the player is knocked out or the game ends," he describes, "Theodore Elanzo was a brilliant seeker, but he was bloody small. After a couple of seasons, other seekers picked up on that and began to take him out of the game early on by knocking him off his broom. For the following two seasons he only managed to catch the snitch three times. Needless to say, his team owner wasn't happy. Elanzo was given an ultimatum. He was told that he needed to find a way to fix his disadvantage before the beginning of the next season, or he would be fired. Elanzo had a gambling problem, though, and needed his quidditch salary to pay off his debts, so he disappeared for a month and studied the quidditch rule book."

Oliver took a breath before continuing. "As you all know, it is illegal to modify your broom and to use magic during a game. Other than that, though, a player can do whatever they want to prepare for a match. Elanzo's problem was that he was always getting knocked off his broom. He fixed that by casting a sticking charm on his robes and one of his gloves. It worked and Elanzo won many more games. The tactic became quite popular among seekers. While chasers and keepers need both hands to catch the quaffle and beaters like to switch hands with their bat, seekers only need one arm to catch the snitch."

"At that point it became impossible to knock a seeker off of his broom. A couple of seasons later, though, it was discovered that it wasn't impossible to knock a seeker out of a game. It's a simple solution really. If you can't take the player off of their broom, then you remove their control of it."

"Beaters began targeting seekers brooms instead of aiming for the player. Still, the quickest seekers including Elanzo were able to use the strategy without consequence. Those players dominated, for a while, particularly Elanzo."

"Elanzo's team made it to the championship round against a team with two beaters who were rumored to strike the bludger at 120 kilometers per hour. Elanzo was confident that they wouldn't be able to hit his broom and bragged to the press about it before the game. The beaters were angered by this and made it their mission to knock Elanzo out of the game."

"In the end, Elanzo was right; they never did manage to hit his broom. He wouldn't be able to brag about that though. About 40 minutes into the game, Elanzo spotted the snitch and dove straight down to catch it. A bludger was struck at the wood end of his broom, but Elanzo was a bit too fast. He took the bludger to his head. He died before reaching the ground. The strategy hasn't been used since."

Harry picked up where Oliver left off. "I, however, don't have to worry about dying from a bludger to the head. For one thing, I only plan on using the tactic for my first game to minimize the potential avenues to haze me." The team nodded. It was sound logic. "Additionally, even if they do hit me in the head during tomorrow's game, they are far from strong enough to do anything more than give me a concussion. Really, the only thing I'm worried about is a stray hit to my broom."

It was true, Harry wasn't worried about anything else, including the bucking broom that would certainly happen the next day. With a sticking charm on his rear, the broom bucking would give him a nasty headache, but nothing more. The only issue was getting the broom back under control to catch the snitch and Harry had placed a time delayed 'extra-stink dung bomb' in the teacher's booth to take care if that.

The team went to sleep that night with a certainty if Harry's safety. Harry, himself gave a customary checkup on Sirius before settling down on his bed in the dorm room. For the first time in a while, he slept peacefully through the night.

Harry woke up rather late the next morning, thoroughly rested and ready for the day's activities. It truly wasn't going to be that busy of a day as, other than the quidditch match, Harry didn't have any plans.

He couldn't wait for the match to be out of the way. Avoiding the hazing was a particularly difficult feat and, in Hogwarts history, only six players had been able to do it. Traditionally, if one made it through without being hazed, they were to be left alone. They deserved it after all, having outsmarted the entire opposing house. Once the game was finished, Harry saw no reason to be so paranoid. At that point, the only reason he would be attacked was for a prank, so he should be free to walk to classes and eat in the Great Hall.

He was slightly bitter that an immature Hogwarts tradition robbed him of a large amount of time to spend with his friends in other houses. He hadn't spoken with Daphne in days and only talked to Susan in class. His lack if communication with Daphne worried him as he wasn't sure how well she was dealing with Blaise's death at this point. He hoped she understood his need for isolation during the period.

At last, game time arrived and Harry, escorted by his Gryffindor teammates walked to the locker room, broom slung over his shoulder and robes resting upon his arm. They passed several Slytherins who scowled in displeasure over their apparent failure to haze Harry and, despite the desperate hate in their eyes that betrayed their true desires, they left Harry alone, knowing that they would be unable to land a shot through his vanguard.

They arrived and the girls split away from the boys to enter the bathroom to change. Traditionally, the house of the brave were either too cocky or simply didn't care, and changed with all internal doors open. Gryffindor was the only house who didn't have strict boundaries dividing girls and boys in the locker room. They would follow the same routine and split up to change, but if a girl finished changing and wanted to sit on a bench in the locker room while some boys still got dressed, that was fine and if a boy needed to use the bathroom for some reason, no one would say a thing.

For that reason, Gryffindor players were expected to be mature about sexual relations. That wasn't to say that they couldn't appreciate any glimpses they caught of the opposite sex. To ask that from players would be unrealistic. They were allowed to appreciate the view and even display uncontrollable signs of arousal, so long as they didn't take advantage of the situation. Starting was frowned upon, and talking with somebody about their naked body was taboo unless they initiated it. Any complaints from either of those infractions were to be taken to the captain who would issue a warning to the player who, in turn, would be kicked off the team if they offended again.

There were three other rules regarding the Gryffindor locker room and breaking any of the three would result in immediate expulsion from the team:

What players saw was to stay within the team. No one was permitted to talk about another player's body outside of the locker room.

Originally the rule was simply to not talk to other people outside the team about it, but a gossip queen had eavesdropped on a private conversation between two players a while back and spread to news about how huge some girl's tits were. Granted even talking about a teammate's body with another teammate was frowned upon, but, since every player had caught a glimpse at least once, it wasn't banned.

Rape was not tolerated.

This rule was rather obvious, but it needed to be stated. Not only would the offending player be kicked off the team, but they would also be subject to severe retaliation and a united front from the rest of the team to see them expelled.

No one else was to know about their changing arrangements.

If it became known throughout the school, a teacher would inevitably reprimand them and see too it that the arrangements coils never be repeated.

Some players who came to the Gryffindor team were more private and preferred to change without being glimpsed by others. In that event, they would conjure a curtain around one of the showers (or have another player do it for them) and change in there.

This system did not exist in Harry's first world and he was rather amused that, thus far, all the changes had revolved around quidditch. Granted, the arrangement had little effect on him currently, seeing as his body had yet to go through puberty, but his mind knew that it wasn't a change he'd be complaining about in the future.

Harry stripped down to his briefs and began to put on his quidditch gear. He began by wearing a thin, but insolating piece of clothing that covered from his ankles to his neck. Quidditch players sometimes got extremely high in the air, especially seekers, and would find themselves freezing from the colder temperature. The secondary purpose of the thin clothing was to ensure nothing inappropriate was seen while players' robes flew behind them. The Gryffindor may be open with one another, but had no interest in putting on a show for the whole school… well everyone on the current team didn't. Harry wasn't so sure about some of his other housemates with… looser morals.

Next he put on his Gryffindor team robes. They were scarlet in color and had his number, seven, written in gold twice. One covered the majority of his back and the other over the right of his chest. On the left of his chest, the Gryffindor lion roared with pride, knowing that its team was the best.

He pulled thick, woolen socks onto his feet and then encased them in his trainers. The woolen socks would preserve the warmth in his feet were the clothes beneath couldn't reach. With those on he now needed to provide warmth for his head and he pulled out an earring, the pride of Gryffindor house's quidditch team as one of their brightest inventions. Inscribed in the ruby earring was a rune of warmth. In the past, the team, like the rest of Hogwarts quidditch players, just wore ski masks on unbearably cold days, but the sweat beneath those masks was irritating and one day, a particularly bright player made the Gryffindor team those earrings.

Now that they no longer had to weigh the benefit of wearing the ski masks to hold back the cold with the unfortunate side effect of sweaty faces, the Gryffindor team wore the earrings for every match. As it was a rather recent development, no team had been able to replicate the feat yet, but, if rumors were to be believed, the Ravenclaws were remarkably close. Finally, he put on his gloves and pulled out his wand. Like planned, he casted a sticking charm on his robes were they would be attached to the broom and he carefully sat down to ensure that they didn't get stuck to something they weren't supposed to.

Unlike Evanzo, Harry wasn't worried about being jarred off of his broom by another player. The sticking charm on his robes should be able to counter Quirrell's curse well enough. Because of that, at the last second, Harry decided to forgo the sticking charm on his glove opting to instead leave both hands available to catch the snitch. The tactic still set him at a slight disadvantage as he couldn't lift his body off of the broom to lunge for the snitch, but, with both hands free, at least h had the option of using either hand if the snitch flew next to him.

He sat hovering on his broom while he waited for the rest of the team to finish changing. He caught a glimpse of Oliver putting on his helmet and nearly cursed at his forgetfulness. He almost went into the game without any guards.

He flew his broom around to grab his elbow, forearm, and knee guards before relaxing again. Technically, he wasn't required to wear them, but it was generally a good idea to anyway. He didn't need to have his elbow shattered while he was chasing the snitch. He desided to forgo the helmet though, as most players did. It was an irritating adornment when flying around at high speeds and most people preferred to let their hair free. Oliver was the only exception at Hogwarts, currently. His bad experience in his first game made him paranoid, so he never played without one.

Minutes ticked by and Katie, who was the last to finish changing mounted her broom with the rest of the team. A couple of minutes later a canon sound roared out to signal the beginning if the game.

" **Good morning ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the first quidditch match of the season. Today we have our courageous Gryffindor facing off against the treacherous snakes!"** Lee Jordan's commentary was interrupted by McGonagall's faint reprimanding. Though it was quiet to the rest of the stadium, Harry was sure Lee didn't appreciate the volume nearly as much. **"Right, sorry professor! The** _ **not**_ **treacherous Slytherins."** The Stadium laughed and roared its approval at Lee's obviously insincere words.

" **From Gryffindor we have our captain and keeper, the embodiment of bold,** despite him refusing to not wear a helmet **, and unstoppable barrier: Oliver Wood."** Oliver flew out to the cheers of the crowd, though some laughed when they noticed he was wearing his helmet once again.

" **Following him we have our swooping vixens, the flying foxes of beauty and grace, and the unbelievably talented chasers: Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell!"** The chasers flew out together and once again the crowd roared, overwhelming the jeers of Slytherin. **"Angelina, looking as beautiful as ever… shame she won't go out with me…"**

"JORDAN"

" **Right, professor. Next we have the duo of mischief, miscreants to society, but bloody deadly with bludgers: Fred and George Weasley."** The entirety of the crowd, minus Slytherin booed. When Fred and George first made the team, they told everyone in Gryffindor to boo, thinking that the other houses' reactions would be funny. The trend stuck and soon the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined in. The Slytherin stayed silent, refusing to do as the beaters wished, but also refusing to cheer for them.

Over the boos, a fain rustling was heard as Lee and McGonagall fought over the mic. Apparently McGonagall decided it wasn't worth the effort and Lee continued to commentate. **"Finally, we have our seeker. Everyone knows him and what he has done. Vanquisher of You-Know-Who and survivor of the killing curse, the youngest seeker in a century: HARRY POTTER."**

Harry flew out to join the rest if his team, the noise of the crowd temporarily deafening him from the wishes of good luck from his teammates. He allowed them to cheer, but did no fancy maneuver to entice them.

After a sigh of reluctance, Lee mumbled the Slytherin team. "For Slytherin we have Adrian Pukey, Marcy Flint, Graham Mouthache, Mile is Belchy, Rear end Huggs, and two other guys."

McGonagall could be seen tearing out of the booth and speaking curiously with the headmaster whose beard merely jumped up and down with uncaring laughter. Then she sat down and fumed, wanting to leave, but also refusing to miss a game where her lions played. Lee Jordan would be stuck in detention for two weeks following the match.

The Slytherin team joined Gryffindor in the air and Madam Hooch flew to the middle of the circle formed by players.

"Alright, I want a nice, clean game. Captains shake hands." Oliver and Marcus attempted to break the bones in the others hand before flying off with a scowl. Harry and Terrance Higgs flew upwards to prepare to search for the snitch, while Oliver and Miles Bletchey flew to their respective hoops. The chasers from each team remained in the circle while the beaters flew back a bit in preparation for the wild bludgers.

Madam Hooch dove to the ground to release the snitch and she picked up the quaffle to fly it back into the air. She tossed it up and the game began as she flicked her wand to release the bludgers from their chains.

" **And they're off!"** Lee announced as the action picked up. Harry was busy looking for the snitch, so he couldn't watch the game and was only able to understand what was going on by listening to Lee's commentary. " **Angelina Johnson is the first to the quaffle and she tears down the field. She's pursued by both Pucey and Flint, but she passes to Bell who shoots… no it's a feint and she passes to Johnson, who now- oooo that's a bloody foul Hooch. No whistle is blown after that obvious display of brutality through disregard of the rules and play continues. Pucey passes to Flint who flies down the middle of the field. He shoots! Blocked by our keeper Oliver Wood. Wood wastes no time passing to Spinnet who… drops the quaffle? Oh its right into the hands of Bell who is flying low beneath the Slytherin chasers. It looks like grunt one is aiming a shot at Bell as she flies directly up to hopefully, score! The bludger is fired, but George Weasley- or Fred, I'm never sure- intercepts it and sends it at Higgs who hastily pulls a sloth grip roll to avoid the ball of steel"**

Harry flew wide arcs around the field in his search for the snitch. Already, he had spotted Malfoy's watch, a galleon being passed from a Ravenclaw to a Slytherin, and the stars on Dumbledore's robes. All of them were golden, but none were what he was searching for.

" **Bell passes to Johnson who shoots… scores! 10-0 Gryffindor! Take that you slimy snakes. Bletchey takes control of the falling quaffle and passes it to Flint who spearheads a formation with Pucey and Montague down the field. Wow! Look at that bludgers from one of the Weasleys. It knocked the quaffle out of Flint's hands and into Bell's who takes ai breakaway down the field, easily scoring on Bletchy. 20-0 Gryffindor!"**

Harry's broom began to buck and he pulled himself from his search for the snitch in favor of keeping his balance on the broom. His robes ensure he wouldn't fall, but a dislocated joint from the jarring movement wasn't out of the question.

" **Pucey passes to Flint and Flint passes to Montague. Montague dodges Spinnet's swipe and passes back to Flint who shoots and is blocked again by Wood. Wood passes to Spinnet who- what the hell is happening with Potter's broom. C'mon Hooch time out!"**

Fred and George flew beneath Harry, ready to catch him if necessary. Out of the corner if his eye, Harry saw Alicia get clipped with a bludgers sent by the now uninhibited Slytherin beaters. "Damn it guys! Remember what tactic I'm using. Help the chasers out, I'll be fine.

Though they looked like they wanted to protest, the twins nodded and returned to the game, barely blocking a bludgers that would have knocked Katie off her broom and out if the game.

" **The Weasley twins looked ready to help Potter, but Potter said something and they flew away. What the bloody hell is that idiot thinking? Timeout, Hooch, timeout! Ugh, looks like Potter's on his own. Slytherin scored once while the Gryffindor beaters were away making the score 20-10. The Slytherin seem to be coming back by taking advantage of foul tactics and- never mind, Spinnet scores. 30-10 Gryffindor. Flint tears the quaffle from Bletchy, his own teammate, and flies down the field alone. He shoots! Blocked by Wood. Oh, Flint isn't happy about that one. Wood tosses to Bell who passes to Johnson and they soar down the field unopposed and scores. Flint seems to be yelling at his beaters and he takes the bat for himself and flies down the field. That's going to be a penalty shot for Gryffindor, Spinnet is ready to take the shot and Hooch blows the whistle, but wait! Look! Flint hits Wood in the head with the bat and down goes Wood. Slytherin ought to be disqualified for that, but Hooch instead gives Gryffindor another penalty shot. Spinnet will likely take them both. A brilliant find by Oliver, she was only a reserve last year, but look at her now. She makes both shots and Gryffindor are up 50-10. That isn't likely to last long, though, with no keeper left… and, yep, Pucey scores easily from halfway down the field."**

While his broom tried to buck him off, Harry saw the teachers flee from their booth, chased by the slightly colored air that came from a dungbomb. At last, he felt control of his broom return to him.

" **Look, all is not lost as Potter seems to have regained control of his broom. Slytherin scores again and are quickly closing the gap."**

The game went on for another ten minutes before Harry spotted the snitch. At that point, Slytherin had scored several more times, while the flying foxes only scored once. It was now 110-60 in Slytherin's favor. He tore off after the snitch and, in a stroke of luck, reached out the right way and caught it before the other seeker even realized it had been found.

" **Potter has caught the snitch! Potter caught the snitch. Gryffindor wins!"**

With a victory and a final score of 210-110, Harry smiled. When everything else was going wrong, at least he had quidditch.

 **VERY IMPORTANT AN! PLEASE READ!**

 **AN: So I got a review from 'female guest reviewer' complaining a out my description of rape in the Gryffindor locker room and felt this needed to be addressed. When I stated the rule that rape was not tolerated I didn't mean to offend anyone. Rape is a serious crime that I believe should be punished far more severely than it currently is in society. That being said, I will not rewrite that section as I believe it truly belongs in the story. In the Harry Potter universe it seems that purebloods, particularly males, rule. Because of that, depending in the raped and rapist, I can say with certainty that some people got away with rape in the wizarding world. Additionally, this all takes place in a castle essentially ruled by a man who believes in second chances for all. Considering he kept Snaps, who almost certainly raped people in his time as a death eater, out of prison, I can't see him expelling a student. As it stands, the Gryffindor team is well aware if this and believe it punishment isn't doled out by authorities, they should do it themselves. When I said that the rapist would be subject to the wrath of the quidditch team I meant to insinuate that they would find themselves falling down flights of stairs several times a year. Once again, I in no way condone rape and personally believe it to be the worst crime someone can commit. Thank you for your time.**

 **AN2:** Well I don't think I'll be writing a quidditch game ever again. It's a lot harder than you would think and my take certainly didn't come out as well as I would have liked it too. I'm kind o reluctant to release this chapter, but I spent so much time on it that it seems wasteful not to. Anyways, thanks for reading and please leave a review. Your comments are greatly appreciated and I do my best to answer any complaints or questions regarding my story.


	18. Chapter 18: Christmas

The team swarmed around him as he landed on the ground, snitch still in hand. They walked together back to the locker room, escorted by the victorious cries of their fellow Gryffindors. Though sore from all of the tight movements they made in midair, they all wore a smile. Realistically, this game wasn't all that important, but coming out on top against their biggest rivals, after an underhanded tactic took out their captain and keeper, was something worth getting excited over.

Their victory wasn't that good for their season, but it was a victory all the same. Quidditch at Hogwarts had the points accumulate throughout the season to determine who would get the quidditch cup at the year's end. With Gryffindor's extremely talented team, the best tactic would be to score as many goals as possible whilst Harry prevented the other team from catching the snitch. In all likelihood that would be the way they played against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Were it not for the brutal elimination of their keeper at the hands of Marcus Flint, the Slytherin game would have gone the same way. However, with Oliver out of the game, Harry had to pull the plug early to prevent Slytherin from getting the same point advantage Gryffindor strived for.

When they finished showering and had changed back into normal clothes, the entire team walked out to a now empty stadium. The weather had been rather chilly lately and even the most avid quidditch supporters had no urge to stay behind and wait for the team to return. It was more likely that their housemates were preparing a party in the common room.

Though nobody on the Gryffindor quidditch team would turn down a good party, they wouldn't be attending this one. Not immediately at least. Together, they marched through the Hogwarts halls and pushed open the strong doors of the infirmary to check in on their captain.

The hospital wing's silence was interrupted by the pitter-patter of food steps as the team flooded into the sanitized room. In the third bed from the left wall, Oliver propped himself up against the headboard with a mountain of ice attached to his head.

"Did we win?" he asked, as though he was perfectly fine and the ice was merely a fashion statement.

"Damn it, Oliver! Here we are worried about your health and all you care about is the game's results," Alicia berated.

Oliver's face became confused. "Okay, your statement is sound, though I fail to see the problem that your tone suggests there is."

Harry wasn't exactly surprised. They were talking with 'Catch the snitch or die trying' Oliver. Still he sympathized with the twins who face-palmed each other. Alicia snarled and stomped over to Oliver, leaning over him and whipping her hand around to slap him. She promptly turned on her heal and stormed out of the infirmary.

'Interesting,' Harry thought, 'It seems Alicia cares more than the rest of our teammates.' He briefly considered the pair and saw nothing strange about it. In his past life, Harry remembered a brief romance between George and Alicia, but he couldn't remember if she and Oliver ended up getting together.

Briefly he thought about the relationships of his previous life and wondered how they would be affected. Would Remus marry Tonks? Would Bill get with Fleur? He didn't know and that scared him. Despite knowing things that had not yet happened, he was hopelessly oblivious to the minor details that were changed in this alternative world and could spell the creation of disaster.

He ought not to complain as he had knowledge that no one else had, but it was still frustrating to be in the dark over certain details. It was a selfish desire, but one that Harry would own up to any day… at least to someone who knew where he was from.

After a small exchange to make sure Oliver was okay, the team made their way out of the hospital wing and halted the stormed pacing of Alicia. On their way back to the Gryffindor common room, the girls fell behind the boys and put their heads together, presumably to console the furious Alicia before the entire school knew about her feelings.

Harry believed that currently only four people knew about her crush: himself, Angelina, Katie, and, obviously, Alicia. The only reason he knew was because of the exchange between Alicia and Oliver a couple of minutes beforehand. He doubted Fred and George knew. As much as he liked the twins, there was no denying that they were Weasleys and Weasleys had a tendency to be clueless about other people's feelings, particularly of the romantic variety.

To add to that, Alicia was only really friends with her fellow chasers. Being a female on a quidditch team had unfortunate side effects. It was hard for them to get close to boys as they all seemed to want to see how fit their training made them and other girls were usually jealous by the attention gained from their playing.

As much as Harry wanted to fix the indirect sexism at Hogwarts, and undoubtedly in the rest of the wizarding world, he doubted that he would ever be able to succeed. The way people thought was far too ingrained in their head and their opinion wouldn't change. In public, if Harry worked for it, he could very likely have men and women be on equal standards, but when people are alone, they show their true colors and Harry was not all-seeing.

Along their way back, Faolan emerged from the shadows and walked by Harry's feet, subconsciously matching each of the boy's footsteps with his own.

" _I could have caught it quicker_ ," the wolf claimed

" _You can't even fly,"_ Harry shot back.

" _I can so… I just… uhh… think that walking is far more dignified… yeah!"_

" _If you say so, Faolan,"_ Harry stated with sarcasm dancing off his thoughts.

They continued to banter back and forth until they came to the portrait of the Fat Lady. The twins led the charge, simultaneously saying the password. They leaped up into the portrait hidden entryway and barged into the common room shouting about how the party could truly start now.

Harry was the next to join the crowd and he was instantly mobbed by students young and old. To his right, Ron Weasley cheered and bragged. "That's my best mate! Taught him everything I did." He stuffed his mouth with cake and said "Brilliant catch Harry!" At least, that's what Harry thought he said because it sounded more like "Brivva ent caf Ha-ay!" Ron proceeded to slap Harry's back in congratulations, successfully sending spittle flying everywhere from his grunt of exertion. Harry was quick to move away from the redhead after that.

He continued to walk through the common room, dodging drunken stumblers and bold fangirls. Among the comments sent his way, some stuck out more than most. There were the normal ones like 'Brilliant flying' and 'nice job' but others were more… exotic:

"Harry's almost as good at seeking as this beer I'm drinking. Haha! That rhymed."

"Marry me so we can make Harry Potter Jr."

"Wow, I wish my girlfriend was as good at catching balls as Harry is."

The last comment was a bit too much for the first year and he shuffled his way to his dorm room and locked the door behind him. His dorm-mates would surely be pissed with him, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He fell upon his bed and allowed gracious sleep to take him.

The days at Hogwarts dwindled on in a monotonous fashion, something which Harry planned to enjoy every last second of. In classes, McGonagall still send him fond glances – though she'd never admit it – and Flitwick remained his enthusiastic self. Sprout's class was a great time to socialize and Binns' a great time to sleep. Snape who, after a few days, decided that Harry was being arrogant when he left behind that note, continued to insult him and unjustly take points off of Gryffindor.

At last, Yule fell upon the school like a cheerful guillotine. While in his previous life, Harry would've given anything to have someone to celebrate with in a place outside of school, this time he was content where he was. He had a portable home, an energetic companion, and a sassy owl to give him all the company he needed. Briefly he grieved the fact that Sirius was unable to enjoy the holiday with him, but he pushed those thoughts to the side for the day in favor of having happy times with his animals.

For Hedwig he brought a platter of bacon from the Great Hall. He felt kind of bad that he didn't buy her a gift, but allowed himself the consolation that he couldn't have given her a better present. She affectionately rubbed her head against his hand before digging in to the mountain of greasy goodness.

For Faolan, Harry bought an 'Ever-Bouncing Bouncy Ball' to keep the wolf entertained even during the full hours of Harry's education. With only one ball, the gift was perfect for both Harry and Faolan. No longer would Faolan have to beg Harry throughout classes to leave and play fetch. All Harry had to do was find an unused classroom and throw the ball in. The wolf would be entertained for hours, catching the ball and letting it drop to spring away again.

For other people, he found it much harder to figure out what to gift them. In his previous life, Harry would have had an extremely easy time picking out gifts. He only had two friends, really, so the bonds between them were strong enough for him to know an appropriate gift. This time, however, he had more friendships and, while he valued each and every one of them, they weren't nearly as strong.

Giving Neville a gift was easy enough. All that boy needed was an exotic plant or a book on them and he'd be happy for the rest of the year. Harry placed an owl order for a wiggentree and handed that to Neville first thing in the morning, before anyone else got up. He hadn't bought anyone else in his dorm a gift and didn't want them to get jealous. As a side thought, Harry wondered if Neville might get a bowtruckle as a pet. It would certainly be more fitting than Trevor the toad.

Harry ended up deciding that he only was close enough to two other people to give personal gifts. For Susan he bought a black and yellow charm bracelet that held a badger charm. Susan was extremely proud of her house and he couldn't think of a better gift for her. It also gave him options for future gifts: a new charm every Christmas and perhaps for some birthdays as well.

Daphne's gift was by far the most expensive one. It wouldn't put a dent in his fortune though and he thought the price was well worth it. To begin the expenses, he bought a locket of silver. Embedded in the locket were seven small emeralds. They were perfect orbs, smooth to touch, and formed a circle around the central gem that matched Daphne's eyes: an aquamarine gemstone shaped like a icicle – a little joke on his end for the nickname she was slowly developing around the school for her cold demeanor.

With the exception of the jagged edges formed by the icicle, the locket was pure, perfectly smooth, and beautiful. At the top a small loop formed where a chain of silver fell through. To make the clasp, an ovular shape was divided in two with a D and a G on either side. It was expensive, yet it was so perfect and Harry couldn't see how he would top it for her birthday in two months.

For his fellow Gryffindor quidditch players, he bought two potions of 'muscle soothers', for after the remaining two games of the season, and a charmed bracelet that was connected to the Hogwarts scoreboard. He didn't know them well enough to spend more than 50 galleons, but he also didn't want to do something so basic as buying a broom servicing kit. He'd leave the winks and innuendos to some other unlucky sod.

As a last minute thought, Harry bought Markus a 'watch'. The watch's time changed based on how dangerous the item beneath it was. If Markus were to hold it above a feather, for example, the watch would likely display the time of 12:05. A feather wasn't very dangerous, but someone could theoretically choke on it. In contrast, if he held it over a vial of basilisk venom, the time would be somewhere around 11:30. 12:00 was the safest time and 11:59 the most dangerous. He made that very clear in the letter he sent with the watch.

For this journey, he sent Hedwig, albeit reluctantly. He still hadn't gotten over the trauma of losing his beloved companion in the battle of the seven Potters and likely wouldn't be comfortable letting her out on her own for years to come. Were it not for the incessant pecking of the snowy owl, Hedwig would still be locked up in Harry's trunk where she was nice and safe.

Harry wandered down the stairs and through the castle to begin his daily routine. Just because it was Yule time, didn't mean that he could slack off. By this point he was fairly sure he could run for an hour straight meaning he could probably participate in mobile combat for an hour and a half. That was a rough estimate because of the factors involved (magic used, terrain, how much movement, etc.), but it was a reasonable guess. Finally he marched his way back to the showers, dodging Filch and his humbug attitude.

At last, Harry was ready to open presents. This time, Harry wouldn't be opening presents in the common room. He trudged his way on to the quidditch pitch and into the locker room. In this universe, the somehow more fanatical Oliver Wood decided that the team ought to spend holidays together to bond. And so, Harry found himself lounging uncomfortably on a wooden bench with a pile of presents lying behind him. He really hoped his presents were appropriate for the team because the situation could become mighty awkward if they weren't.

Fred and George were the last to join the team, having spent some time with Percy and Ron. Thankfully, though unfortunately for the two Weasleys who weren't in the locker room, they didn't have many friends and their family was poor, so the time Fred and George needed to wait in the common room was rather short.

Oliver waived his wand and conjured a chair behind him. It was plush and maroon and Oliver sunk right into it.

"Oi," shouted Harry, "Want to share your skills with the rest of us?"

"What? The prodigy can't conjure his own?" Oliver teased Harry with a Dumbledore-like twinkle in his eye.

"Dude, I'm good, but not fifth year good." That was a lie, but nobody needed to know that.

Oliver chuckled, but otherwise complied. Nobody on the quidditch team were slouches on the magical spectrum, though Fred and George liked to pretend otherwise, and it was proven when both Angelina and Alicia flicked their wands to conjure chairs of their own. Angelina conjured another behind Katie who was only one year older than Harry and the youngest chaser sent a grateful look before sitting down.

Fred and George could never be so simple.

"Oi!" Fred yelled towards Oliver.

"What about us?" George continued.

"Conjure your own bloody chair. Even if you aren't skilled enough to conjure, which we both know you are, you learned how to transfigure things into a chair last year."

"We resent such treacherous thoughts!" Fred claimed.

"Honestly, calling us smart?" George questioned.

"Unbelievable!"

"Inconceivable!"

"Utterly ridiculous!"

"Absolutely slanderous!"

They shared a look before speaking as one. "Downright ludicrous!"

At Oliver's raised eyebrow that said that he was immeasurably unimpressed, both twins shrugged and flicked their wands. The chair beneath Oliver transformed into a frisbee and flew between the twins, settling at their feet. It was slashed in two and each piece grew into identical chairs.

On the floor, Oliver grumbled in frustration, but said nothing more as he flicked his wand to summon yet another chair. "Now that we've settled seating arrangements," he shot a glare at the twins, "we can begin opening presents. Harry, as our newest member, you can go f-" Oliver was interrupted by the sound of wrapping paper ripping and flying. Beside him, Fred and George were monstrously tearing open gifts flinging the wrappings left and right. He opened his mouth to scold them, but was cut off by the rest of the team joining in. Scowling with a small hint of a smile, Oliver dug in as well.

From Fred and George, everyone received a six pack of chocolate frogs. Once again, Oliver fell victim to the twins' shenanigans as he immediately plopped one into his mouth and his hair promptly turned an unflattering purple.

Before Oliver could berate them Fred and George defended themselves. "Honestly, Oliver! You should have read the instructions first," George explained. To emphasize, Fred snatched Angelina's set and flipped it over. On the bottom, written in Fred and George's handwriting, were the words 'to use on Slytherins.' "Not our fault you decided to be such a fat-arse."

"Yeah," Fred claimed, "Now your stuck with purple hair for the day."

"You see, we thought about using pink,"

"but that seemed too manly for the slimy Slytherin team who we know you're going to target."

Oliver frowned, but upon flipping his box, he conceded that he was too hasty and accepted the prank. No one but Harry noticed the twins flick their want to cast a 'Revelio' before Oliver flipped his box.

Oliver bought the team the broom servicing kit that Harry avoided gifting. Deciding to get in on the banter of ragging on Oliver, Harry said, "Trust _Wood_ to tell us to _service our brooms._ " Everyone, but Oliver had a good laugh at that.

Angelina bought everybody a potion that, when rubbed into a player's hair, repelled rain from their faces. Katie bought everyone some Pepper-up potions that she claimed were for the days that Oliver decided 'extreme training' was necessary. Alicia bought everyone new gloves and added a captain's arm band to Oliver's present… solely because he was captain of course.

With the gifts exchanged between one another unwrapped, the team began to open gifts from personal friends. Harry was surprised to see he still received a Weasley sweater from Mrs. Weasley, though, in hindsight, he really shouldn't have been. Ron seemed to have it stuck in his head that he was Harry's best mate, something that just wasn't true this time around.

From Susan he received an Auror's handbook with a warning not to read it in public. Apparently she found a stack of them on her aunt's desk when she was little and decided the DMLE wouldn't miss a few if she were to take them. Her aunt could get into a lot of trouble if someone who wasn't an auror was discovered with one so she begged Harry to be careful with it.

From Neville he received a package containing a pound of gillyweed. Harry wasn't quite sure why Neville decided to give him it, but he wouldn't be complaining. Gillyweed could come in handy in the inevitable war and a pound was a lot of it. Considering it was all contained in a box with stasis runes carved all over it, Harry couldn't see himself running out for at least a decade.

From Daphne he received a note book that would automatically sort any notes he put in them. While it seemed similar to something Hermione would have gotten him, the intent was different. Daphne said that with his apparent prodigal skills, he ought to start inventing his own spells and variations of current ones. She claimed that her great-grandmother had been an unspeakable who invented spells and used a similar notebook. Harry appreciated the gift for both its practical use as well as the sentimental feeling on Daphne's behalf behind it.

As he had in the first go around, Harry received a flute from Hagrid and one of his all time favorite possessions, the cloak of invisibility once worn by every one of his ancestors. When Harry first returned to an eleven year old version of himself, he was weary of the cloak, particularly when it was first given to him. He suspected that Dumbledore might tamper with it to make him more compliant. Paranoia was an unfortunate side-effect of the truth and Harry experienced it in large doses at first.

But when Harry thought about Dumbledore, not as the man he admired and adored, but as the flawed man whom was revealed to him, he realized that the 'leader of the light' would never do such a thing. The one thing Dumbledore obsessed over throughout his life were the Deathly Hallows and it didn't seem within his vision to tamper with a portion of his life long goal. And that was even if the man could tamper with the ancient relic, something which Harry wasn't sure anyone in modern times could do.

As a result of his conclusive thinking, Harry stuffed the cloak in his trunk that he had taken with him in order to prevent knowledge of its existence from getting out. Currently, only Dumbledore knew that Harry owned the cloak and there was no reason to change that little detail.

Harry allowed himself to scowl a bit at the now obvious attempt at manipulation from Hagrid's gift. He doubted the flute was Hagrid's idea. As much as he loved the half-giant he knew, he could easily admit that the man wasn't cunning enough. The more likely cause of the gift was Dumbledore noticing the flute and mentioning to Hagrid that it would make a lovely gift for Harry citing something about the magic of music.

All the same, Harry packed the flute, along with all of his other gifts into his trunk. Even if the flute was a Trojan horse, he would be foolish not to use it. After all, a trap ceases to be once the opponent knows of its existence. That and Harry couldn't sing, didn't know how to enchant an instrument to play itself, and couldn't be bothered to learn to play a song other than the one he knew on the flute.

Harry offered a smile and farewell to his teammates before heading back to his dorm and into his trunk. He had a heist to plan.

Dumbledore smirked to himself as he sucked on a lemon drop. His plans were going perfectly so he allowed himself a day of relaxation to admire his unrelenting intelligence. On the edge of the circular room, adjacent to his desk, Fawkes slept with a wing over his eyes.

Due to his actions involving young Harry, his bond with Fawkes wasn't as strong as it once was. The bird still listened to his requests and acted upon them, but they no longer enjoyed pleasant conversations over tea. He wasn't very happy about it, but it was a necessary burden he was willing to accept. His plans were all for the greater good of the wizarding world. He knew Tom was still out there and would return within the next decade. The man was patient, but he would not allow his loss of power to continue much longer.

Harry was strong, surprisingly so, but he stood no chance against Tom, not without years of training or the dark rituals Tom himself performed as a kid. The wizarding world could not afford excess time, nor another dark lord. So Harry had to be sacrificed for the greater good. Once Harry was dead and Voldemort defeated, Dumbledore would take a knee for the fallen savior and dedicate the win to him.

At least the boy would have a happy childhood. Admittedly the Dursleys wouldn't be the nicest guardians for him, but he would be safe for the next six years, Dumbledore was sure of that. Once everything fell into place Fawkes would understand and they could enjoy their final days together in happy companionship.

 **AN:** Sorry about the delay everyone. Unfortunately, life hasn't been going too well for me recently, so my writing has been a bit slow. I'm not going to get into it – that's not why you're here, but that's the reason for the slow update… well that, Thanksgiving, and a terrible dose of writer's block. Anyways, I think I have two-three more chapters to go until second year begins, so there's that to look forward to. Second year will be focused more on character relations than Harry getting established in his new life and I expect it to go by rather quickly because not a lot is going to happen until the end. If you have some cool idea for an event in second year, feel free to PM me, but otherwise it will probably be rather bland. Don't worry though, the action I've promised will come after that.


	19. Chapter 19: Stealing Desires

**AN: I apologize for the long AN at the end, but give it a read. It might be worth your while ;).**

It was time. Everything was planned and nothing could go wrong; Harry knew that. Yet he also knew exactly how well his plans worked. It was the law of nature: No plan can go perfectly without some sacrifice.

So far, things had gone rather well for Harry. He escaped the Dursleys and rid himself of the horcrux within him as well as the one within the Lestrange vault. But it was only a matter of time until both of those showed consequences.

As far as he knew, all of the Lestranges would remain in Azkaban until his fifth year, so he didn't need to worry about that for a while. The future problem he was worried about was Dumbledore realizing Harry no longer lived with the Dursleys.

The man was far from paranoid like his friend Alastor Moody and had no reason to check on the instruments he used to monitor the Dursley residence. Harry, having lived at the Dursleys for the majority of the summer before he was sent between universes, already spent enough time for the blood wards to stay in power for the rest of the year.

That was a wonderful blessing. Harry wasn't sure if Dumbledore knew Sirius wasn't a death eater. Despite all forewarnings, he couldn't see the man leaving an innocent to rot in hell intentionally. If Dumbledore thought Sirius a death eater, he surely would have checked his instruments to see how the wards were fairing. They would show at full strength. Harry only hoped that by the year's end, any thoughts of Sirius would've blown over. As far as Harry knew, if that happened Dumbledore wouldn't need to check the wards until after Harry's fourth year when Voldemort returned.

Those odds were far from something Harry would put money on. There was always the chance that Dumbledore wouldn't forget about Sirius or would get curious about the wards' status the next year. But Harry lived on a fool's hope. He had for years and would continue to for many more.

A small gift amidst the storm of worry was that Harry didn't need to fear retribution from the other two plans he had enacted so far. Those punishments had already been doled. The price of getting on the Gryffindor quidditch team was a loss in Neville's already low self-confidence and the retribution for freeing Sirius was his godfather's comatose state. When he thought about it, Harry couldn't help but compare those gifts to the toothpick he once received from the Dursleys for Christmas.

Still, regardless of all potential consequence, despite any future pain and suffering, some plans needed to be enacted and keeping the stone from Voldemort's reach was one of them. Harry didn't like his odds in facing Voldemort one on one. Not yet anyways. So he relied on his recollection of past thievery attempts to chose a time when he would be alone and safe. The only two attempts that he knew of were Halloween and the end of the year, so he felt rather confident choosing a day in the middle of January to perform his second greatest heist (Nothing could top Gringotts).

He wore the Weasley sweater he received for Christmas in an effort to avoid losing any pieces of clothing he actually cared about to the Devil's Snare. It would also hopefully shield him from cuts given by the plants and keys. In his pocket he carried the shrunken down flute. He didn't want to risk anything else in the event that things went south. It was bad enough that he needed his father's invisibility cloak. Harry debated bringing his Nimbus with him, but decided against it. If he was caught it would be hard enough to explain why he was in the forbidden corridor. Explaining why he had his Nimbus in his pocket would be even harder.

He thought all of this while he walked, intent on keeping his mind off of the coming task, but failing miserably. He tried harder and harder to think of anything but his heist and only succeeded in embedding the thought in his mind. He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't realize when he walked up an additional flight of stairs, onto the fourth floor.

His feet were on autopilot, navigating the halls of Hogwarts, though not in the direction they were meant to go. Slowly, Harry's hand reached out from beneath the cloak of death and turned the doorknob to reveal a dusty classroom contrasted by a shiny mirror.

Dumbledore sighed to himself in boredom. He had been waiting in that classroom for ten hours a day, everyday since Christmas. He couldn't believe that Harry hadn't donned the Weasley sweater yet. He heard young Ronald Weasley telling people how good of friends he was with Harry, so he was surprised that the prophecy child hadn't put on the sweater on Christmas day.

It had been extremely easy to convince Molly to make Harry a sweater. She was always a sucker for those in need, particularly those who were young and alone. Perhaps it was a side effect of having seven children and she felt the need to mother everybody. Maybe she was always that way. Dumbledore couldn't be bothered to remember. They were a nice family and useful at times, but in the end they were forgettable and unimportant.

Anyways, Dumbledore only needed to mention how poor Harry was dressed in rags and that he heard the boy didn't expect many presents and soon Molly was knitting a sweater from the emerald yarn that was conveniently right in front of her when he left. It was almost like magic. Dumbledore had a good chuckle whenever he thought of that joke.

It had taken a great deal of time and effort to enchant every thread of yarn with compulsion charms keyed to Harry. It had taken even more time to put the yarn back together. But Dumbledore wasn't considered the greatest wizard of his time for nothing. He was patient and skilled and his efforts paid off. The trap had been set and now all he had to do was wait for Harry to look in the mirror and reveal his desires.

Dumbledore could only think of two potential reflections for Harry. The one he hoped for was Harry seeing his family. The one he feared was Harry seeing himself ruling the world. At that point he would know that Voldemort had already won the mental battle. He made sure he would hear the truth by layering the room with compulsion charms and filling it with gaseous veritaserum, an invention that only he and Severus knew about. Then he applied a bubble head charm, a disillusionment charm and he waited.

The doorknob wiggled and the entrance was made for a young boy with black hair to enter at last.

Harry couldn't figure out why he was entering the room. It took him a while to realize he wasn't on the third floor, but when he opened the door and saw a mirror instead of a Cerberus, he realized something was wrong.

His feet paid his mind no heed and he continued into the room in front of the mirror. Behind him, Dumbledore dispelled his disillusionment charm and revealed himself to a thoroughly bamboozled Harry.

"Hello my boy," Dumbledore spoke, revealing himself far sooner than he would have if his plan went perfectly out of impatience, "I see you are the first student to stumble upon the mirror of erised. You stumbled in at the perfect time. In quite the happy coincidence, I was working on the mirror when you came in. Had I not been here, I fear that you, like many men before you, would've waited away at the sight of true desire." Dumbledore hoped to glorify himself by making it seem like he had saved Harry, but Harry, having already encountered the mirror and knowing one glimpse wouldn't hurt him, was unimpressed.

Hastily, Dumbledore continued. "The artifact is most curious, don't you think? To show us our deepest desires. I, personally, see myself holding a fresh pair of socks, gifted to me by someone dear. Might I enquire what you see?" he asked in a grandfatherly tone.

Thankfully Harry had not yet looked in the mirror. At the moment, his deepest desire would be to see Sirius up and about, sometimes changing to Padfoot to play with Faolan. So, to answer the question because of the compulsion to tell the truth, Harry went to the last memory of his deepest desire. "I'm standing there with my mother and father beaming, a hand on each of my shoulders."

Dumbledore let out a grin of relief. It seemed Harry had not yet succumbed to Tom's dark magic. "Yes, my boy. They loved you very much and would be quite proud of your achievements. But do remember that it doesn't do to dwell on dreams. Tomorrow the mirror will be moved to a new place and I must ask you not to seek it out again. Understand, Harry?" At Harry's nod he let out another grandfatherly smile and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Goodnight then my boy!" and promptly left the room.

As Dumbledore disappeared into the halls, likely apparating or using a portkey to make his sudden disappearance seem mystical, Harry began to think properly once again. In his past life, the trip to the mirror of erised seemed to almost be a coincidence. He stumbled into the room in an effort to avoid being caught and happened to catch a glimpse of the mirror.

This time he, who basically knew Hogwarts like the back of his hand thanks to years of looking at the Marauder's map, went to the completely wrong place. He was sure Dumbledore hadn't put any enchantments on the invisibility cloak. He had already expected as much, but deciding to take a lesson from Mad-Eye Moody, Harry tried to enchant the cloak himself.

He would be the first to admit that he wasn't an expert enchanter, no where near the level Dumbledore was, but he was certain that he could cast a mild compulsion enchantment. He even tested his ability on a few articles of clothing belonging to Ron. Whenever the boy wore his slippers, he would immediately head into the common room and sit by the fire.

Despite Harry's ability to enchant Ron's slippers, no enchantment, no matter what power or variety he used, would stick to the invisibility cloak. They would just pass through it like it was nothing but air. In short, Dumbledore couldn't have enchanted his cloak. It was simply impossible.

Still, Harry wasn't sure what possibly made him go to the room hosting the mirror. He hadn't done anything different than the previous days spent during the winter holidays. Every day he would wake up, work out, eat breakfast, disappear into his trunk, reappear for lunch and re-enter the trunk once again for the rest of the day.

Today, the only altercation to his routine was his plans to sneak into the third floor corridor and protect the stone. But Dumbledore couldn't have known he was headed that way. Even a man as magically gifted as the headmaster could only hold one location under wards at a time within such a magically potent location such as Hogwarts.

The only possible ways he could have been bamboozled into feeling a need to enter the room of desire was that he had something on him. Potions were out if the question as a method. Harry's ring would catch such potions in his food way before he ingested it. So how did Dumbledore do it, or was it simply a coincidence?

He hugged his arms to his chest from the chilly weather and felt a flash of gratitude to Mrs. Weasley. Despite all apparent flaws, the woman made a damn good sweater and… 'Oh, that sneaky son of a bitch,' Harry thought, not daring voice such words for the walls with ears to hear. So he enchanted the Weasley sweater.

Briefly he wondered if Mrs. Weasley was in in the plot, but he set aside the thoughts. In the end it didn't matter if she was a part of Dumbledore's schemes. At least, not this time. Harry didn't lose anything of value. He didn't really care if Dumbledore knew his biggest desire. The man couldn't use that against him.

The man could try and pull the 'your parents would be disappointed' card, but he could never claim to give Harry the pleasure of reuniting with them. Dumbledore hadn't yet discovered the resurrection stone and he never would if Harry's plans came to fruition. Additionally, the man wasn't ready for Harry to die yet so he couldn't reunite Harry with his parents that way either. Not that Harry planned on dying… he had too many people to save and a new life of more joy to live.

Anyway, Harry realized his plans for the night would have to be postponed. It was way too late to pull of the heist smoothly and he wasn't sure if Dumbledore placed a tracking charm on the sweater. Harry walked back to the Gryffindor tower dejected but determined. 'Tommorow for sure,' he thought just before drifting off to sleep.

The next night Harry made sure to wear only clothes that he hadn't yet removed from his trunk. He felt a bit awkward in them. They were clothes he bought on a whim during a stroll through muggle London and his expectations did not compare to the reality of his image in them. Now they were just adornments in his closet because he was too stubborn to admit his fashion sense was wrong.

He chose the darkest reject clothes he could find: a pair of black leather pants that might have looked good on a rock star, but did Harry no favors, and a borderline black, navy blue shirt that had his name scrawled on the front in opaque glitter-glue. The glitter was pink and sparkly, not exactly ideal for a stealth mission, but he consoled himself with the thought that his clothes were mostly backup to his primary tool of stealth, the cloak of death.

He cast a silencing spell on his shoes, only to set them aside and cast the same spells on his socks. Harry really needed to get more than one pair of shoes. With no spares he would have to go barefoot tonight which wasn't too awful as the floors of Hogwarts were generally smoothed by ages of use and magic.

Twirling the invisibility cloak over his shoulders, Harry head out for his adventure once more, this time a tad more cautiously. He crept through the hallways until he reached the third floor and opened the door.

He wasn't all that worried about being interrupted as he was nearly positive that everyone was asleep and that there were no alarms on the door. Surely if there were Dumbledore would have just apparated to the school and caught up to Harry before Voldemort even had a chance to order his death in his previous life. Nonetheless, he decided to make his trip as quick as he possibly could. His luck always found a way to make things go south.

As he crept past the door, he was greeted by Fluffy's sharp teeth looking more jagged than a stray shard of glass. He came to the conclusion that either Cerberus' were nocturnal: which made sense considering they were thought to guard the underworld in some ancient religions, or that Fluffy was just rather weird.

He pulled out Hagrid's gift and began to play his only tune. Slowly the dog's eyes drooped as the choice or instinct to be nocturnal was overruled by the perceived lullaby. Three thuds echoes through the room as each head dozed off. Fluffy slept on his side with a single paw covering the trap door.

Thankfully, Harry's simple song required only one hand to play, though balancing the flute was a bit difficult during certain notes. With his other hand and a large amount of body strength, he shoved the giant paw to the side and opened the trapdoor.

He fell down into the devil's snare, not even attempting to move except for the initial recoil from his fall. Again he fell beneath the dangerous plant and he brought himself to his feet. Harry started to brush himself off, but stopped himself when he realized there was no point. Not only would the clothes only get more dirty as he advanced, but he also planned to burn them when he was done.

He rationalized that decision by believing it was best to remove all connections to the heist, but in reality he just wanted to be rid of the clothes without hurting his pride. It was a rather unconscious reasoning, but it was sound in Harry's mind.

He trudged forward until he reached the door to Flitwick's room. He swung it open and had to shield his eyes from the bright lighting, amplified through reflection off of shiny key wings.

Having no desire to trigger the trap that resulted in keys assaulting him, which with accomplices wouldn't be so bad, but alone would be rather painful as he unlocked the door, Harry decided to bypass the trap's trigger. His first thought was to blast down the door, but he decided against that.

Magic could be traced back to a specific user. The trace was enough evidence for that and for further backing, he remembered Tonks once telling him about a case where she used that information to catch a baddie. She wasn't supposed to say anything related to work, but she might have been slightly drunk.

Ideally, Harry would get through the challenges while using as little magic as possible. So he took to pacing and thought up a solution. His eyes widened when he found one. He was so hesitant about springing the trap that he hadn't thought of a rather obvious solution. The devil's snare grabbed everything that moved and the keys were enchanted to fly after the broom once it was touched.

So, in theory, all Harry had to do was grab the broom and flee into the previous room directly up into the devil's snare. There, he would let go of the broom and stop struggling. While he and the broom slowly fell through the snare, the keys would continue to flap their wings in an effort to reach the broom. Then, Harry would only have to wait for the wings to break and the keys to fall.

With his memory of the key pulled up to the forefront of his mind, down to the last detail thanks to his, or rather, Voldemort's, occlumency, he should have no trouble identifying the correct key. Then it would just be a matter of dropping the key in the pile on his way back so it couldn't be linked to him. Really it was quite the blessing that magical thought magic tracking was superior to finger prints.

His plan worked perfectly and the keys clattered one by one to the ground making a symphony of rings and clangs that echoed through the chamber. He inspected each one carefully and, after observing twenty seven keys, he found the right one. He walked forward merrily and unlocked the door. Harry stuffed the key in his sock, his pants annoyingly featuring no pockets. There was no need to waste time returning the key just yet, he could do that on his way out.

He left the door wide open to provide light for the next room that he remembered as only being lit by a few torches. Even without the reflective key wings the light flooded out of the previous room and removed the intimidating nature McGonagall had surely been going for.

The chess men (and two women) stood stoic and ready for battle. Problem was, Harry wasn't good at chess. He never had been and likely never would be. He was a combatant, not a strategist.

Again a part of him wanted to blow the set to smithereens, but he knew that if he could just get past this one without magic, then he would easily clear the next three. So again he paced and thought. Again an idea occurred to him, but this time it was accompanied by doubts. 'Surely they weren't this stupid,' he thought. Still, it was the best idea he had and he decided to give it a go.

He returned to the room hosting the devil's snare and walked atop keys that clinked and clanged as he disturbed their slumber. He picked up the broom he previously left behind and got on it, soaring back to the chess room. When he arrived he realized he could have dropped the key, but it wasn't a big deal, he would be returning that way again when he made his escape.

With lead of worry in his stomach, Harry gained a bit of altitude until he was just above the chess pieces and he began to fly forward. He was shocked when none of them reacted to his passing. So far two traps had been negated by another professor's defenses. 'They really need to coordinate more,' he thought.

He didn't even bother getting off the broom for the next obstacle. Trolls generally had two weaknesses that could be exploited by even the weakest wizards. First they were stupid. That advantage had no bearing on Harry's current plan. He didn't need to outwit the troll, he only needed to get past it.

Which brings to mind the second weakness: trolls are powerful, but dreadfully slow. So really all Harry needed to do was fly past it. The troll had no chance as Harry flew a circle around him and opened the door slowing only slightly to open it as he flew past before he flew another circle to avoid the troll's sluggish swing and fly through the door way.

The broom skidded across the floor as Harry leaped off it to shut the door behind him. In hindsight, the troll's stupidity might be useful after all when Harry needed to return. Hopefully the troll would have forgotten everything by then.

Leaving the broom behind as it would serve no purpose in the following two rooms and was only extra weight, Harry stalled down the long corridor until he stumbled upon a room with two, seemingly empty, doorways.

Harry knew better. As expected, when he crossed the threshold, flames of different color erupted from the floor blocking any exit unless one drank the custom made potion. Thankfully, Harry barely needed to pause as he remembered the third potion was his ticket onwards and the seventh his way back.

He tilted back his head and drank the potion, cringing slightly at the taste and headed through the black flames into a room that hosted the mirror of erised.

Before exiting Snape's room, Harry had been unable to see the mirror, though he of course knew it was there. The mirror was hidden just out of eye sight, utilizing the doorway's right corner as cover.

Harry looked into the mirror and saw himself. His reflection held the stone in his hand and moved to place it in his pocket. He soon realized that he had no pocket and scowled at the real Harry. Harry just shrugged which made the scowl's frown deepen. With a final pout, the reflection settled for stuffing the stone in his pants and disappeared, leaving Harry with a temporarily blank mirror as Dumbledore's enchantment slowly petered out, its job complete.

Harry shifted uncomfortably before blushing wildly and flinging his hands into his pants. The Philosopher's Stone, the literal life source for Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, had been place directly next to his crotch. He hastily resolved to repress that memory and to _certainly_ never let the Flamels know.

He walked though the flames, again only pausing to drink a potion and whistled his way down the corridor. Harry picked up the discarded broom and mounted it intending to fly past the troll as he had before. That went fine.

Then Harry made a mistake. A mistake that, with his life, he should have known better than to make. As he flew past the troll, he muttered, "Well that was easy." But before he could make his way through the next doorway he was stopped by the twin statues of kings, one in black and the other in white. There was no way around them, no way above them, and a troll was at his back

"Well fuck!" Harry muttered to summarize his situation

 **AN:** Hey again! So here's my next update to IDAFT. If I'm being honest, I thought that the next chapter would be the last of first year, but the writing gods decided that I needed at least an additional chapter before bringing first year to a close. Anyways, as always, let me know what you think by review or PM. Your opinions to effect the way this story goes… at least sometimes.

 **AN2:** As a special treat to the people who both care about my story and read the ANs, I'm going to have a little competition. You see, I've already made my opinion about character deaths clear. They are going to happen. That being said, I figured some of you might enjoy a bit of input on who dies and how. So onto my competition. If you so desire, you may send me a PM naming a character and how you want them to die. This death must be in second year

Unfortunately I have plans for a few characters and, as such, they are exempt. They are: Harry and Daphne (duh), all of the Weasleys, Lockhart, and for now (because I know a couple of you immediately thought of her) Umbridge. Not to worry, I will take reader opinions on that matter when the time comes.

Now there will be two winners. The first one will be the option I believe fits best in my story, this is the one that I will feature in the story as a part of the universe I have developed.

The second winner will be featured in IDAFT-Extras. To win this I want you to think up the most creative death possible (and a person to go with it).

Both winners will be credited in an AN that accompanied that chapter. If, someone somehow wins both competitions, they will be given an additional prize of being able to chose one key plot point in addition to the idea being featured in IDAFT

For all of these I reserve the right to make changes if they will destroy the overall direction my story is going for, but I can be very flexible. This is me trying to engage my readers as a thank you for their support. **Please note that I will only accept entries over PMs and only one per person** , so decide which one you want to go for, or take a risk and go for both. If all goes well, I may do more competitions in the future. ~Whitedrago


	20. Chapter 20: Go Home, Get Stoned

In hindsight, underestimating McGonagall and her defenses had been a terrible idea. Many people could find criticism for the deputy headmistress, but it could never be argued that she was a slouch in the brains department. Disregarding her prowess in the transfiguration department, she was also a good enchantress (as based on her enchantment of the chess set) and a good duelist, with both transfiguration and typical battle spells. In short, Harry really shouldn't have even thought he was in the clear when he bypassed her defense so easily.

On the bright side, one of Harry's specialties was surviving by pulling plans out of his ass. He was still rather reluctant to use magic. He had no interest in being caught. Then again, he had no interest in being killed. Between the two, he much preferred to be caught. At least then he would only have to face Dumbledore politically a little sooner than planned. Harry couldn't do much good if he was dead.

Decision made, Harry flicked out his wand in preparation for a battle that should be easy, but taxing. He wasn't too worried about any of his opponents if he was using magic. Magic was ranged and neither the troll nor the chess pieces had ranged weapons. Admittedly, the troll's reach was pretty far, but it was also slow.

When his wand met his hand, the chess pieces took the signal to draw their weapons and charge towards him to swing at his broom. The kings wielded long swords, straight stone about a meter long and 4 centimeters thick. The edges of stone were sharp on either side and it ended with a point. It was held with two hands on the hilt, raised to their right so that the cross guard was just above their shoulders. They both made quick, violent thrusts towards Harry's chest.

The queens wielded rapiers a thin line with a wicked point at its tip. Their strikes were quick jabs. They apparently were aiming to make small cuts to his arms with their several small slices.

The knights proved to be rather annoying as their galloping horse were nearly as fast as his broom. Harry really wished he had his Nimbus at that moment. They whipped cavalry sabers as they passed, apparently also attempting to give Harry several small knicks. He groaned as one caught his leg. Thankfully, a combination of leather and Harry's dodging minimized the swipe into a single white line, a cut not deep enough to draw blood.

Harry flew a bit higher then. Losing blood would also be a dead giveaway to his identity. With blood drawn, there would be no coming back. Not only would he be identified, but several additional things could be done with the crimson liquid.

The bishops were by far the weakest of the group, they whipped maces around that were very easy for a seasoned quidditch player to dodge. He wasn't particularly threatened by the rooks either. They had broad swords drawn, but they did not leave the doorway. They were the only thing preventing him from just flying out.

Just as Harry raised his wand to cast a quick bombards at the rooks and fly away, the troll missed a swing at him and nailed the white queen, also shattering the arm of a black bishop. The pieces changed targets. Apparently McGonagall gave them too much sentience as they felt rage over the loss if their queen and comrade. They all, including the rooks at the door, charged at the troll and flailed at his body, never actually breaking through his tough skin.

Harry, seeing his opportunity flew out of the room and swung the door shut behind him. He jumped off his broom and allowed himself to catch his breath. He was far more in shape than most witches and wizards, even most quidditch players, but constantly flipping his broom in astonishing acrobatic aerial maneuvers was no easy feat.

He finally stood up and began to walk across McGonagall's chess set. Harry began to trudge across Flitwick's room before he reached another conundrum. He had no idea how to get through Sprout's trap to escape. Getting down was easy. Going up was a far bigger challenge. Especially being he was determined to not use magic thanks to his bout of luck from the previous obstacle.

What Harry really needed was a way to remove the devil's snare. He couldn't just make a small hole either. Somehow, Sprout enhanced the regenerative ability of the devil's snare so even if Harry made a hole just big enough to fly through, he would be tangled into the snare before he could get past.

He began to walk back to the troll rooms new idea in mind. By now, the troll had probably destroyed all of the chess pieces. What Harry hoped for was an undamaged sword that he could use to cut the snare out from the edges quickly by using a broom. He would fly up the middle and the snare would grow back in behind him. Then all he would have to do was drop the broom and sword back down and walk away.

In theory, it was perfect. In practice not so much. Harry managed to find a sword just fine. The troll's slow movement made it so that most of the chess pieces were destroyed only from the shoulders up as they tried to duck beneath its giant club. He also would have no problem flying the circle fast enough. There was only one problem.

Not only had Sprout enhanced the regeneration of the plant, she also reinforced it, making it nearly impossible to cut through. A stone blade stood no chance and a sword of steel, which he didn't have, would struggle as well. He basically needed a super sword that would cut as fast as his broom flew.

The ring of Gryffindor appeared on his finger. Well, it was always there, Harry just didn't usually see or feel it. In fact, unless he wished it, a person could shake his hand and not notice the ring. But now it was prominent on Harry's finger.

Harry really needed to remember all of the things he owned and how he could use them all. For now, though, he would use his ring, or, more specifically, the sword of Gryffindor. A typical sword of steel would have difficulty cutting through this reinforced devil's snare and it would be near impossible to cut the snare fast enough. The sword of Gryffindor was made of no ordinary steel. It was forged with goblin steel. It had literally no weakness because it took in that which made it stronger. So, even if the devil's snare was more powerful than it, which it certainly wasn't, the sword would take those strong characteristics as its own.

With the sword of stone now abandoned to the sea of keys and replaced by the sword second only in intrigue to Excalibur, Harry flew a quick circle and out of the snare, the tendrils making a final gambit to grab him, but falling short by inches.

When Harry reached the trap door, still open from his plunge, he crossed its entrance and was met with Fluffy's head again. He reverted the sword of Gryffindor back into a ring and whipped out his flute, jumping off his broom in a roll. Before Fluffy's jaws could snap him to pieces, Harry played his tune and the dog fell asleep again.

Really, Harry could sympathize with Hagrid when he claimed Cerberuses were cute and named him Fluffy. When it was asleep and not trying to eat Harry, it was pretty cute. One of its ears were flipped up and a single head emitted a slight snore that didn't fit at all with its massive body.

Continuing to play, Harry lifted the broom and dropped it down the hole. He also withdrew the key from his pocket and let it join its brethren as it experienced flight once more… until it hit the bottom.

He swung the door shut behind him and flipped his cloak over his shoulders, stealing the sight of his body away from the rest of the world. He marched slowly back to his dorm, taking the time to calm himself and adjust to the adrenaline purge inside. His sleep would be sound and immediate when he finally reached his bed.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to get the stone to the Flamels. Initially, it seemed simple. Just send Hedwig with the stone and a letter addressed to them. He had no doubt that she had the ability to find them. She never failed.

But thinking it through, Harry realized that sending one of the world's most valuable objects via mail order was an awful idea. He recalled his year at Hogwarts during the reign of Umbridge. He could still vividly see Hedwig's broken wing and hear her distressed hoot. Hedwig was skilled, but she could never win a fight against a magic wielder – certainly not Voldemort.

His owl was also very recognizable. In this world, he only owned her for a little more than four months. A normal person wouldn't be associated with an owl by the public unless they had them for about a year. Harry wasn't a normal person though. He knew for a fact that a Daily Prophet reporter caught a picture of him exiting Eeylop's with Hedwig on his shoulder. By now, pretty much everyone knew that she was the owl of the boy-who-lived.

She was a high-profile target for dark wizards and collectors alike. According to Ron's greedy murmuring, a single feather from her could be sold for 100 galleons. In other words, Harry couldn't risk sending her on an important mission.

He didn't care if someone nabbed a feather to sell on the black market. Well, he did, but only if it hurt her. If someone plucked a feather of hers off of the ground, he couldn't care less. Harry also knew that Hedwig was smart enough to avoid populated areas. In the previous world she was only caught twice.

The first time it was Umbridge. The witch wasn't very talented and didn't really manage to intercept his mail. She only managed to hurt Hedwig. Harry knew that the only reason she landed that hit was because of the circumstances. Despite Hogwarts' massive size, owls tended to take the same route out. Whether this was because of a ward or the air currents, nobody knew, but it was a fact. Really all Umbridge had to do was wait for Harry to send Hedwig out.

While enroute, he doubted anyone could catch his loyal messenger and companion. He wouldn't risk it, but he doubted it all the same. She was smart and adapted well to situations. If she hadn't been protecting Harry, she very likely never would have been hit by a spell again.

If he really wanted to use her, he would have Twinky bring her somewhere random and Hedwig would start the delivery from there. In short, he wasn't afraid that Hedwig would be caught sending a letter about the philosopher's stone. He _was_ worried that Voldemort would use his considerable intelligence and put two and two together.

Some would say that Riddle only learned about the stone's Gringotts vault through Hagrid's retrieval, but that didn't make much sense to Harry. Sure, Voldemort would have learned of the vault number, but that wouldn't have mattered. The stone would already be gone. It was possible that the dark lord was trying to call a bluff on Dumbledore's end, believing that Hagrid was only sent to make him believe the stone was being moved, but Harry doubted that once again.

Both Voldemort and Dumbledore were ridiculously smart. On Dumbledore's end, sending Hagrid as a bluff would have been smart, so it was logical for Voldemort to believe that the stone was still at Gringotts. However, it would've been foolish of Dumbledore to actually send Hagrid to the real vault. Some would claim it to be a double bluff. They would say that Dumbledore wanted Voldemort to think that to make certain he raided the wrong vault by leading the dark lord to believe its location was not vault 713.

But objectively, that would be extremely stupid. Harry knew that the lower the vault number, the deeper and more secure the vault was. He also knew that vault 713, the vault that held the stone was a high security vault. If there were three levels of security, each with n equal amount of vaults, and if vault 713 was the last high security vault, Gringotts would have 2,139 vaults. To be frank, there was absolutely no way that any of those stipulations were true and Harry wouldn't be surprised if they had well over 100,000 vaults, but even with those stipulations, it would be strategically unsound to keep the stone in a known vault instead of another random vault in that 2,139. Both Dumbledore and Voldemort would have known this.

To summarize Dumbledore's scenario, he would have been foolish to send Hagrid to the correct vault unless the half-giant was actually taking the stone to Hogwarts. Yet Voldemort still broke into vault 713.

That meant that somehow, Voldemort figured out the vault number on his own and decided to break in that night. It wouldn't be surprising if he just didn't know that Hagrid took the stone away. As lovable as Hagrid is, he isn't necessarily the most reliable. So Riddle must have believed the stone was still there and tried to steal it from vault 713.

If he could find out the vault's number from vague clues like that, Harry had no doubt that he could learn of the Flamel's being seen somewhere and then deduce that 'Dumbledore's prodigy' had something to do with it by remembering the departure or absence of Harry's recognizable companion. It was convoluted, strange, and had many holes, but Harry didn't want to risk it. Not with two extremely valuable things: the stone and Hedwig.

There would be no issue though. Harry could send a school owl with a letter. He didn't think any owl was more reliable than Hedwig, but he knew they'd get the job done. He would send an owl escorted by Kreacher to the Flamels with a letter. He knew that many people neglected to ward against house elves, but, with the Flamels being as old as they were, he doubted they'd be one of that number. Kreacher would escort the owl as far as he could and then return to Grimmauld. The owl would drop off the letter and return to Hogwarts.

At last, Harry reached his bed and he flipped down onto it, falling asleep with words writing in his head:

 _Mr. and Mrs. Flamel_

 _It seems Dumbledore set up rather poor protections for your source of life. I, a first year, managed to take it without even using magic. I am certain that whatever protection you used for the past six hundred years or so will be far better than his. I, having no ill-will to you, wish to return the stone. On January 9_ _th_ _please go to the park across the street from #13 Grimmauld Place in Islington, London and prove your identities. If your evidence is sufficient, my house elf shall return your stone and from there you are on your own._

That letter should work. He wouldn't sign it so that he could in no way be associated with stealing the stone from under Dumbledore's nose. He was doing them a favor, but he had to take into account old friendships. There was no reason to risk the Flamels telling Dumbledore.

Even if the Flamels managed to connect Harry to the Blacks for some reason, they had no way of connecting the Blacks to the stone. Grimmauld Place was hardly advertised by the pureblood supremacists as a place of residence. It was located among muggles after all. He would use Twinky to deliver the stone as unlike Kreacher or Hedwig, she wasn't a known companion of any wizard, much less the famous Harry Potter.

He would send the letter when he woke up and then would send Twinky to watch the park on the 9th at 11:00 PM. That way, even if impostors arrived before 12 in an effort to take the stone as soon as possible through certain disguises, Twinky would be able to monitor them for an hour to make sure they didn't drink polyjuice or if they discussed something that revealed they weren't who they said they were. Glamors wouldn't be a problem – Twinky would see right through them. Harry's sleep was calm and peaceful with a smile of success.

The next morning he quickly scribbled out the letter and sent a young and enthusiastic barn owl with the message. He really hoped the Flamels didn't have owl redirection wards. That would be awfully inconvenient. Though Harry saw and heard nothing, he was sure Kreacher was carefully trailing the bird.

The following days were rather boring. Students who left for the winter holidays wouldn't be returning until the 13th and classes wouldn't begin until the following Monday. Harry passed the time within his trunk. He read up on defensive magic. By now he had a decent enough repertoire of offensive spells and so he wanted to focus purely on defense for a while. Regardless of his destiny and overall goal of killing Voldemort, Harry still had his saving people complex and would always prioritize saving others before fighting. He wanted to master defensive spells because of this. Only once that was done would he master offensive ones.

In the study in his library he kept a three lists of spells that named every spell he had mastered. He only considered a spell mastered once he could do it silently and, preferably, without or with minimal wand movement. For offense he had mastered Bombarda, Expelliarmus, Confrigo, Diffindo, Incarcerous, Conjictivitus, Stupefy, Rictumsempra, Sectumsempra, Locomotor Mortis, Oppugno, Confundus and several other spells of various effects. Truthfully, he had stopped writing down the spell incantations and started focusing on the effects instead. It wasn't like he used the incantations anyway. There was a spell that made several rings of barbed wire surround an opponent to limit their movement, a spell that inverted a person's perception of right and left, a spell that removed each of the five sense, as well as some darker spells, like the entrail-expelling curse and the blood boiling curse.

Meanwhile, the second list, which contained his defensive spells, was rather limited. It featured Protago, a skin hardening spell, Episky, the patronus charm, and the word conjuration. Those were sufficient if it was only him fighting, but if he was forced to save a large group, he had no chance. The third list contained miscellaneous spells that could still be useful.

By the end of the day he found only one spell that suited his needs and he wasn't even close to mastering it. The spell formed a dome that was similar in function to Protego, but it was stationary and could be as large as the caster desired. The problem was that it drained the casters magic as long as it was in effect and the bigger the dome, the more magic it took. Additionally, it couldn't withstand the unforgivable curses and some of the more powerful dark spells.

That wasn't to say it wasn't useful. It would be very helpful for protecting people in battle. The dome wouldn't allow physical objects like rock and stone through it. Basically, to make the ultimate shield, Harry would need to mix conjuration or transfiguration and the dome shield spell. The first line of defense would be a wall of stone surrounding the people in danger. That would block everything except for the killing curse and various exploding spells. The dome shield would be set just inside of that stone wall to protect people from the shrapnel that would inevitably be sent flying when the wall blew up in certain areas. It was the perfect combination… except it used a lot of magic. So much magic that Harry wasn't sure he would be able to fight while still holding it.

That limitation caused Harry to realize how important allies were in battle. Ideally he would be the only one fighting while everyone else stayed safe away from the slaughter, but that just wasn't realistic. No one man could fight at the same time as protecting several innocents. At best, Dumbledore could probably protect five while continuing to fight, but Harry wasn't as magically gifted as Dumbledore. Not yet, anyway. Considering Voldemort would never bother protecting anyone, well… the problem was obvious. Harry knew he would exchange spells with the dark lord several times and was well aware of the likelihood that innocents would be in the midst of it. With Voldemort fully focused on offense, Harry could barely see himself defending one person while continuing to fight. That wasn't even close to the hundreds of people who might be caught in the crossfire.

Deep down, Harry always knew that allies were necessary. It wasn't until he realized how impossible his task was, that he would admit it though. At that time, Harry began to plan out what roles potential allies would carry out in battle.

There was no question that Sirius would fight by Harry's side. There was also no doubt that Sirius would never do anything remotely defensive. He was impulsive and impatient and loved a good thrill. That was fine, though. Sirius was an extremely good fighter anyway and to put him on defense would be a waste.

Aside from Sirius, Harry was hard pressed to think of anyone else guaranteed to fight by his side. As much as he hated the idea, many of his previous friends could easily chose Dumbledore over him.

The first and possibly most heart wrenching one was Remus. He knew the werewolf would do a lot for him, but he also knew that Remus had a deep debt and even deeper respect for Dumbledore. There was a large possibility that the werewolf would end up on a different side in the coming war.

Harry supposed the next most likely candidate to join his side was Neville. The boy was extremely loyal to Harry in his previous life and didn't seem to hold a hero worship of Dumbledore. He respected him, which was understandable, the aged wizard had done a lot in his life time, but Neville didn't seem to have absolute loyalty. If Neville joined Harry, he could easily see the boy being his defensive ally. Neville was a decent combatant, but even in his later years, the boy struggled with offensive spells. It just wasn't in his nature to hurt people. However, he had no qualms defending people fiercely and he wasn't short on magical power. If Harry could teach Neville the defensive combination, the boy should easily be able to perform it. His plants could be very helpful in pre-planned defenses as well. Harry still remembered how much Sprout contributed in the Battle of Hogwarts before he died.

Still, planning out roles for people before he even knew his entire team was pointless. There was always a possibility that someone better for the role would come along. Only when Harry began truthfully finding combative allies would he be able to assign roles. He planned for that around fourth year where he would be entered into the tournament and consequently emancipated. By fourth year, his friends should be strong enough to fight, or at least survive, as well.

The days passed by slowly until finally, it was the 9th. Twinky stood invisible to anyone who wasn't looking for her beneath a swing that swayed slightly with the wind. The chains creaked against one another and the poles holding them featured peeling paint and rust. The mulch beneath her feet was hard from the cold and the smallest movement would sound like an explosion in the silent night.

She had stood there for three hours now and, though her legs were beginning to grow tired, she refused to move. Any movement would reveal her position and she couldn't do that until she met with the real Flamels. She was told to remain hidden until she was certain of their identities and she took that job seriously.

Suddenly, a lone figure appeared on the slide without a sound. As he landed he let out a slight whoop as his body slowly slid down. Inwardly, Twinky was surprised, though she oughtn't be. If this truly was a Flamel, they would have 600 years to accumulate knowledge. It would be more surprising if they didn't have a way to go from place to place silently. Twinky still didn't move. While the silent appearance was rather suggestive, it was merely circumstantial evidence. There was no concrete proof that the figure was a Flamel.

The figure rose from the slide and took a second to dust of their robes which seemed to blend in with the night. They were dark and undecorated offering perfect cover to sneak around. They looked around, a hood above their head disguising their face. Twinky refused to move. She would wait an hour before revealing herself. Polyjuice would not fool her on this day.

The figure had other plans. "You might as well come out. After 600 years it is rather difficult to hide from these old eyes." When Twinky didn't move he swung his head to face exactly where she stood. The sudden movement, accompanied by the slight breeze, tore his hood from his head revealing ice blue eyes, an athletic frame and a chiseled face with peppered gray hair.

A chill ran down Twinky's spine as the ice from his eyes seemed to extend and plunge into her heart. Only one thought ran through her head as she stood in fear. 'That's not be being Flamel.'

 **AN: Terribly sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. The winter holidays tend to be the only time my entire family gets together and celebrates and there was barely any time to write. Then, after new years I had a lot of school work to do. So it took a while to finish. The end of first year is slowly coming. It very likely will be done in two chapters, though I thought that two chapters ago so who knows… Anyway, the competition is still going so please continue to send in your scenarios. Remember only one scenario per reader and submissions will only be accepted via PM. I am going to try to get on a schedule of uploading a new chapter weekly, but it may just not happen. We'll know next week I suppose ;P**


	21. Chapter 21: Gold Elixir and Black Abyss

Twinky would like be able to claim that she hadn't panicked. To panic was to say that she thought she might fail to do her master's bidding and that simply wasn't acceptable. House elves were representations of their masters and should present themselves with the decorum required of such an honorable position. But when she snapped her fingers to apparate back to safety she met resistance and, instead of disappearing, her feet drove further into the ground.

"Ah, sorry, that won't work," the man said. He actually did sound apologetic too. Despite his tone and her desires, Twinky panicked. There was no escape and she had with her one of the most valuable objects in the world.

She turned heal and ran as fast as she could. Her tiny legs spun wheels trying to flee from the well informed enemy. It would be in vain anyway. House elves were very slow without apparation to aid them.

Even so, the man didn't bother chasing her. Twinky was confused by that. When she looked over her shoulder at him, he hadn't moved an inch. She wouldn't complain. If he was too arrogant to believe a house elf could escape him then that was to her benefit.

She turned her head to face forward again only for her nose to meet something. She fell back into a patch of grass, sparsely populated due to the winter's cold death. Her eyes looked up to see the man in front of her. The man had teleported silently again. Really she shouldn't have been surprised.

"Now that you see you cannot escape, perhaps we can talk."

Twinky was confused. He had her at his mercy and could easily take the stone that was contained in a pouch besides her, having fallen from her grip when she met his leg. At this point, talking was her best option. If he was there for the stone, which Twinky was slowly starting to doubt, then stalling with words was a good option.

"Okays," she muttered, "Twinky be listening."

The man took a seat on the grass to make the height distance significantly less than it originally was. He took a deep breath of the crisp, cold air before speaking. "It is easy to understand why you do not believe I am Nicholas Flamel. My last known appearance was at an alchemical convention over ten years ago. At the time I looked like an old hermit with wrinkly skin and over grown white hair. To explain my change in appearance, perhaps I ought to explain how the stone or, more specifically, the elixir of life works."

He shuffled around to find a more comfortable position before continuing. "You see, everyone assumes that the elixir of life solely keeps me alive. They believe that my body would continue to age until it couldn't any more and that then only the elixir would sustain me. That just isn't the case. It is a common misconception that the life provided for me comes only in the form of years… a misconception that I have enjoyed using for my benefit," he chuckled.

"The elixir of life is far more powerful than that. Were it's true powers known, I would wager that more than half of the world would attempt to steal it. Instead of solely extending a life, the elixir alters the body at a cellular level. Basically, it functions off of intent and magic."

He ran a hand through his hair and scowled, as if wondering if he wished to proceed. "Eh, it doesn't matter anymore," he grumbled. "The elixir takes the administrator's intent and uses their magic to form the desired body. In short, if I were to drink the elixir or give it to someone else with the intent of changing the body into that of a baby, it would happen. That is why I look different than a picture some newspaper snuck of me a while ago. This time, instead of playing to the common belief, I decided to appear in my favorite form. The one I always wear in private."

Twinky remained silent through his explanation. She only nodded her head in understanding when necessary. The man sighed, an unseen burden lifted off his chest.

"I suppose that if I were an imposter I could make up this story just to fool you. If you are worried about that, I propose a trade." He reached into his robes and pulled out a dropper. "This dropper contains 100 drops of veritaserum. As you cannot trust that I am telling the truth about its contents I propose a swap. Most house elf owners own a similar dropper of the truth serum and I assume your master is no different. I will wait here for ten minutes. Within that time, go retrieve your master's dropper. When you return we will swap the two. That way you know for sure that what I am taking is veritaserum. Once the potion takes effect, you may ask two questions. You may ask my name and you may ask if the dropper I trade does in fact contain veritaserum. That way, you know I am who I say I am without losing the three drops of veritaserum required. Sound good?"

It was a good deal. Twinky was already in possession of her master's dropper just for that use, though she didn't expect the person to take it willingly.

"Okay," she said pulling out the dropper and walking up to 'Nicholas Flamel'. He didn't seem surprised at all that she carried it with her, contrary to his previous suggestion that she leave and go retrieve it. She slowly climbed her way up the man's body to his shoulder. Though he squirmed, obviously uncomfortable, he did not complain. "Tilt back your head," she ordered in a way very contrary to her nature.

The man obediently raised his nose to the sky and Twinky squirted three drops upon his tongue. He made an exaggerated swallow to ensure that there would be no accusing him of not taking the potion.

Twinky waited a few moments before asking her questions. "Who's you?" she asked.

"My name is Nicholas Flamel, though I sometimes go by other names."

Twinky nodded. After the detailed explanation of the elixir's true effect, she wasn't at all surprised that he was who he claimed to be. It was best to be sure though, and accepting the deal he proposed would only benefit her and, by proxy, her master.

With his identity confirmed, she doubted he would lie about his dropper's contents, but again, it never hurt to be sure. "Does that dropper be holdings the truth potion?"

"Yes," he answered simply. He then pulled a vial out of his pocket and swallowed its contents. The vial contained a thick black liquid matching the description of the counter-serum for the truth potion. It was veritaserum's opposite in every way, a strong taste and smell, a noticeable color and, obviously, the opposite effect.

Nicholas Flamel returned the vial to an inner pocket of his robes and exchanging it for the dropper he had previously set aside while Twinky climbed his body. He pinched it between his thumb and index finger before flicking his wrist sending it flying towards Twinky at abnormally fast speeds. Before it reached her, it suddenly slowed down and, when it reached her palm, she closed a fist around it to halt it's barely perceptible movements.

In return, Twinky snapped her fingers and sent both her master's dropper and a dragon skin pouch towards the man. The pouch carried the philosopher's stone, but was enchanted to look like it carried nothing at all.

Twinky explained its protective measures. "The pouch be looking like it be empty, but it actually bes carrying Master Flamel's stone. You will have to remove a bunch of Gobstones first though. Master Harry bes saying it would be no good if thiefses took the pouch and immediately knew its contents."

Nicholas chuckled. "Yes, that is clever… anyways-" he took the pouch into his hand and closed his fingers around it. He gave an audible grunt of effort and the pouch crumbled to dust along with its contents. "-I've been alive for more than 600 years. My wife and I no longer have any reason to live. For that reason we wish to leave behind a legacy. Now the one we have is nice and all, but it isn't truly the one we want to leave. We want something a bit more personal to hold that position. An action that isn't over-shadowed by fame." He placed a small box on the ground. "Give this to your master as our way of saying thanks. I am sure Mr. Potter will find a way to put its contents to good use." He winked and faded away before Twinky could even ask how he knew her master's name. Sighing, she picked up the box and made her way back to Hogwarts.

Back at Hogwarts, Harry was wide awake and staring at the crimson ceiling of the Gryffindor dorms in anxious boredom. He was tired and knew he would suffer the consequences the next day- or, rather, later that day- but he could not bring himself to sleep. Not when such an important mission was being carried out under his command.

When Twinky appeared at the foot of his bed he jumped, startled. Then, when he realized what her appearance meant, he shot himself upright and snatched his trunk off of his bedside table. Quickly opening it to his apartment, he jumped down, trusting Twinky to understand that she should follow.

Evidently, his elf did understand as he heard the lid close a few seconds after he touched the floor. The room was dark, but Harry's eyes adapted quickly and soon he could see everything just fine. He looked down at the elf, wondering how long it would take to develop a crick in his neck during a conversation with one.

Before he could even ask, Twinky spoke. "The missions bes a success."

Internally Harry cheered, but Faolan's snoring form in the corner of the room gave him incentive to internalize his glee. "There were no problems then?" he asked.

"There bes a bit of a misunderstanding, buts nothing more. Oh! Twinky be told to give master this." She held the box out. As soon as Harry touched it, she apparated away to return the veritaserum dropper to his stores.

When she left, the box in Harry's hand quickly expanded, causing him to drop it on his foot. "Fucking damn it," he screeched in pain. In the corner, Faolan's ears perked up and he let out a large yawn.

 _Is it morning already?_

 _No, I just dropped this… trunk? …on my foot._

 _Well why'd you do that?_

 _I didn't bloody well do it on purpose!_

 _Oh. Well why do you have another trunk? I would think the one you have is suffici- suffica- suff… good enough!_

 _It is. Apparently Nicholas Flamel wanted to give me something, but didn't see it fit to let Twinky know that it expanded from the size of a matchbox to a trunk._

Faolan was too busy sneezing in amusement to respond.

 _Fine, be like that. Go back to sleep. I'm checking out this trunk_.

Obediently, Faolan trotted back to the corner and curled up in a ball. It only took a few seconds for him to begin snoring again.

"Now then, what do we have here," Harry muttered to himself.

He reset the trunk so that it was no longer upside-down from tumbling over his foot. On its lid three letters were engraved. On the top, the letters N and P were engraved side by side. Centered beneath them, the letter F was prominent. All three letters were carved smoothly, each made of half-pipe-like dips.

Taking no time to think of the obvious meaning behind the letters, Harry popped the trunk open. He was greeted with nothing. Not a collection of trinkets, or even a room like he had been expecting. Not even the wooden bottom of the trunk. Just an endless abyss, remarkably similar to the first compartment of his trunk.

Harry decided to test that comparison. He wandered around until he spotted a broken quill lying on a side table. Evidently, Twinky had not yet gotten around to cleaning the apartment. He didn't blame her, she had only been back for about half an hour. Besides, it suited his purpose. He picked it up and tossed it into the trunk's abyss. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Just when Harry was about to poke his head over the trunk to see what might be going on, the quill shot out faster than the speed of sound making the air crack for a short second.

After shaking off the shock of almost dying to a broken quill of all things, Harry looked around to try and see if there were any effects to its appearance. When he couldn't find it around the floor, he checked the tables and when that failed, he reluctantly looked up. There, embedded in the ceiling, the quill remained. 'Okay, let's not try that again,' Harry thought.

Still, he doubted Nicholas Flamel would give him a trunk of nothing just to mess with him. So Harry decided to investigate further. He traced his fingers along every detail of the trunk checking every nook and cranny and even some that didn't exist anywhere but within his mind. He traced along the rim of the trunk, its edges, and its surface. When he traced the inner edge, his finger took a dip into the abyss. Expecting to be sent flying like the quill, Harry closed his eyes and braced himself for pain. He waited and waited, but it felt like nothing happened. He opened his eyes. Indeed, nothing had happened, his finger was still in the abyss and his body still connected to the ground by his knees and feet.

Curious, Harry shoved the rest of his hand inside. Again, nothing seemed to happen. His arm wasn't suddenly ejected from the trunk. Slowly, he pulled his hand out. To his surprise and disgust, his hand was covered in a black goop. Harry voiced his disgust with a low groan. So far, this had been a really bad night for him.

He brought his hand to his nose and sniffed it. It had an enticing smell, though it was rather indescribable past that. It smelled like treacle tart and gave him a vague recollection of his mother's shampoo from when he was a baby being rocked in her arms. A single tear fell at the recollection of that.

From Harry's observations, it looked black and slimy, it felt like goop, it smelled enticing, and it made no sound. There was only one more sense to use and Harry was rather reluctant. Still, as a wizard, he had tasted several things that he didn't necessarily want to. He knew that sometimes beneficial things took a rather strange appearance.

Tentatively, Harry brought his hand to his mouth. As he raised it, his hands shook in anxiety. He was fairly sure Nicholas Flamel didn't want to kill him. The man had no reason to. If anything, the man should want to keep Harry alive out of a debt from having his stone returned. Still, Harry shook.

Gathering his resolve, Harry quickly shoved his hand into his mouth and swallowed the goopy substance. Again, nothing happened. He stared at his hand in amazement. What was the purpose of the goop if it didn't react to one of the five senses? Harry blinked in confusion.

It happened in slow motion. His eyes slowly closed and his vision filled with red. To an outside viewer, Harry's body appeared to be experiencing a seizure, but Harry had never felt more relaxed. His eyes slowly opened and his body stopped seizing.

Harry was no longer in his trunk. Of that he was sure. The room was a dull grey and barren save for the lone door on the far wall. Shrugging, Harry opened the door. Across the threshold, Harry entered another room, this one far larger and more decorated.

The first thing he saw was a rather large bulletin board across the back wall. In the bottom right corner, around fifty colorful pins were bunched together, out of the way, but ready to be used. Directly beneath the board there was a desk. It was old fashioned, but in perfect shape. The desk was at the perfect level to sit at and featured an overhang with a ball of light that came from seemingly no source. In one of the back corners, three quills shared an ink pot. The other corner had a stack of parchment. The desk sat on top of a set of three drawers on either side acting as its legs. Upon inspection, Harry noted that the drawers were empty.

In the middle of the room there was a large round table. Around it there were 12 chairs, though Harry noted that if necessary, the table could squeeze 18 around it. The table could be rotated like a wheel, pivoting around an axle connected to the single table leg with four broad branches at its base. Other than that, the room was empty. Harry sat down at the round table to contemplate the trunk's purpose. There was nothing there that he couldn't get himself, so why did Nicholas Flamel feel the need to give him it?

When he sat down a piece of parchment materialized before him. At this point Harry barely reacted, having already been surprised by the alchemist twice now. A looped scrawl was written across the parchment. Harry quickly read it.

 _Mr. Potter,_

 _Yes, we know who you are. The next time you want to keep your identity a secret, keep the 600 year olds out of it. Not much gets past us. You are far to predictable. I knew you would drink the trunk's contents and I knew you would sit at the table. How? Well by being me of course!_

 _Anyways, your flaws aside, I suppose I ought to thank you for returning the stone. As I explained to your house elf, we have decided that our life should end here. We have seen it all and no longer have a reason to live. That being said, it would be wrong to let that good deed of yours go unrewarded._

 _Now, I wanted to just give you the stone, but Perenelle is of the opinion that some things should never be explored and that the stone and the secrets of immortality ought to die with us. She believed that we should instead share some of the knowledge we have accumulated over the years._

 _Not wanting to have a lover's spat for the first time in around 100 years, we reached a compromise. You will find that compromise in the middle right drawer of the desk. Now we are off to meet our demise! Huzzah!_

 _-Nicholas Flamel_

 _PS: I lied. There was also a note for if you sat at the desk first. I'm not_ that _good at predicting things! HA!_

Harry sighed. For a second he was truly worried that he was being far too predictable. Having a pattern was okay for a normal person, but it could be deadly for a person who was doomed to face off against the two most powerful wizards of his time.

After rereading the letter, Harry spared himself a moment of confusion. Having already checked every drawer, he was a bit confused by what the alchemist meant when he said the compromise was in a drawer. Then again, the man had already used some magic that Harry didn't understand, so it wasn't too outlandish to believe the man's words.

Harry walked over to the desk and pulled out the named drawer. Sure enough, the inside was no longer empty. Instead, there were seven vials containing a golden potion and five square pieces of parchment. Each parchment square measured approximately ten centimeters on every side and had a symbol written on its front. Beneath the vials and squares rested another note. This time the writing was far more elegant.

 _Mr. Potter,_

 _After some debate, Nicholas and I decided that a proper reward would be seven vials of our famous elixir and five spells. Before you use them, I'd advice you finish reading this._

 _On each of our pieces of parchment we have written a magical symbol equivalent to different ancient spells. You have two options for using them. The first and easiest path, which I so hope you will not chose, is to bring your wand to the parchment and tap it. Such an action will activate the spell. However, once a parchment has been used, it may never be used again._

 _Your second option is far more valuable. In a hidden cache, Nicholas and I have stored another five pieces of parchment that tell you exactly how to perform those spells even without the symbol on parchment. It should be noted that if you use one of the parchment spells currently in your possession, its counterpart in our cache will disappear. In other words, if you use one spell, you will lose access to it, but still be able to eventually find a way to permanently perform the remaining four. If you use two, you may learn three. You get the idea._

 _As much as Nicholas wishes for us to leave it at that, I think that giving a small clue is only fair. So we reached another compromise. To find our notes you must complete eleven quests one after another. I warn you that they will be difficult and potentially fatal. For your first quest we will start easy. Bring a willingly given unicorn tail hair to where it all began for you. Good luck!_

 _-Perenelle Flamel_

 _PS: For details on the use and administration of the elixir of life, talk to your elf. Nicholas should have explained it to her._

Again Harry sighed. It seemed he had yet another side quest to perform, and a hard one at that. If getting a tail hair from a willing unicorn was easy, then he was rather reluctant to learn what was considered hard. Still, five spells that even had a chance at being unknown to Voldemort or Dumbledore was something he couldn't pass up. He couldn't afford to only use them once. He would reluctantly play their little game.

Harry felt a small sense of betrayal at the Flamels' decision to end their life after he worked so hard to return their stone. Well, he didn't really work all that hard and he didn't really do it for them, but still! Oh well, it was their decision in the end.

Harry placed the objects he had removed from the drawer onto the spinning table. He took a seat at the desk and put his face into his hands. By now he realized that Nicholas Flamel had a flare for dramatics, but creating a secret room and decorating it so purposefully seemed to be a bit too extravagant. What purpose did this trunk serve. Then he realized the obvious. If Dumbledore suspected Voldemort was still alive, Nicholas Flamel must have as well. And so, this room was likely meant to be a secure war room for Harry's use in the future. There was no way to confirm his suspicions, but Harry was fairly confident in his conclusion.

To summarize what he was given, Harry received one trunk, containing three gifts. The gifts consisted of the aforementioned trunk, five spells, and seven vials of the elixir of life. "Huh," Harry muttered, "I'm surprised they decided to do eleven quests instead of continuing the trend and making it nine."

As soon as he said the word 'nine' Harry was flung out of the trunk. He landed in a heap on his floor and let out a grunt of pain. So 'breaking' the pattern ended up being intentional after all…

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It made himself feel a bit better that he wouldn't need to re-enter and exit that trunk again until a few years later. Putting off the pain until then was a small relief. And then he realized that he left the vials and parchment down in the trunk. Harry couldn't subdue the groan that came from within again.

 **AN: Well, as promised here is the next chapter a week later. It didn't really come out the way I wanted it to, but that's okay because the next chapter should be all the better for it. Anyways, the competition mentioned two chapters ago is still going so keep sending suggestions via PMs. Finally, to the guests who leave poor reviews without explanation and, in particular, the guest who has said twice now that "bashing fics are trash" I respond with "no u." Please enjoy and leave a review!**


	22. Chapter 22: The Elixir

Harry wished he would allow himself to sleep in and skip classes for the day. He had barely gotten two hours of sleep that night after having Twinky return the stone and receiving the gifts from the Flamels. He could not slack off though. He would catch up on sleep after two days had passed and the weekend arrived. For now, he would just have to suck it up and get going.

His daily exercising did help a bit. His eyes were no longer drooping, but that could be a result of the cold winter weather freezing them open. He was sure they were bloodshot. His brain was still asleep, really, and by the time he got out of the shower, he admitted to himself that he would very likely be performing poorly for the rest of the day.

The boy was proven right when he found himself unable to focus in classes for more than two minutes at a time. It was a good thing that most of the classes were theoretical because the likelihood of him botching a spell in his current state was high.

He wasn't so lucky in potions. Harry hadn't done anything dangerous in potions yet or, at least he didn't blow anything up or make a poisonous vapor, but Snape still hovered over his shoulder waiting for him to inevitably screw up. Not that Harry noticed, he was barely capable of staying awake. Being aware of his surroundings was out of the question.

In the end he escaped the class with the Gryffindor hourglass only losing 20 points from his blunders. Harry was expecting a detention and something more like 100 points lost for not being at his best. That wasn't to say that the entirety of Gryffindor avoided point loss. Ron had decided that the points taken from his 'best mate' were unfair and loudly complained to Snape. He ended up losing 50 points for Gryffindor before Dean stood up and covered Ron's mouth. Dean lost 5 points for leaving his seat and 10 for assaulting a class mate.

Herbology, perhaps, was even worse for him. Gryffindor managed not to lose any more points in the class. Sprout was far too kind and forgiving of childish behavior. Harry nearly lost a finger by not paying attention when he sheered some plant that he didn't know the name of. He began drifting off to sleep and the blade came really close to his finger before Neville was kind enough to wake him up with a tap on the shoulder.

At last, the school day was at an end and Harry could finish his homework and go to sleep early. Oliver had other plans. With the match against Hufflepuff quickly approaching (in Oliver's eyes). The team needed more practices to achieve victory against the Hufflepuffs.

So instead of sitting in his library to complete his homework before settling into his nice, warm bed to escape to the bliss of dreams, Harry was forced to fly through the storm that had begun during dinner time that day. Each droplet was like a blunt icicle as they slammed into his skin to leave dents.

Already tired, and even more hindered by the rain, Harry was stuck performing at around 60% of his potential for the rest of the practice. His difficulty showed when one of the Weasley twins managed to nail his arm with a bludger. It didn't hurt much, but Harry wanted to end the practice quickly so he told Oliver that he was going to take a shower and head to Madam Pomfrey's to get his arm checked out. Immediately, everyone volunteered to escort him there, eager to hop on the bandwagon and get out of the rain.

As each of the foxes flew closer and closer to Oliver to explain why they would be the best option for escorting Harry, the keeper found himself in an awkward predicament. He couldn't just chose one, lest he draw the ire of the other two. In the end he sent them all and turned to begin a beater training session with Fred and George. They were already gone and in the showers. Oliver sighed before deciding that practice was over whether he said so or not.

When Harry returned to his dorm and went into his trunk, he pulled out his assignments and retrieved each of the textbooks he would need. He tried to do the work, he really did, but sleep was too compelling and his brain didn't seem to want to work.

After fifteen minutes of staring at a piece of parchment with blurry vision, Harry conceded defeat and headed to bed. He slept soundly and dreamt of a shaggy black dog running circles around his feet.

 _-=IDAFT=-_

Harry woke up the next morning a lot more rested than the day before. The full night of uninterrupted sleep had done him wonders and he found himself completely ready for the day. Considering the homework left undone the day before, Harry decided to sacrifice the day's exercises and complete his work instead.

He finished earlier than he expected and found enough time to go for a short jog; just long enough to get his heart pumping and his blood moving. His shower was brisk and warm, discharging the cold that clung to his body from the frigid winter air.

The day was honestly very boring. Whereas the day before featured practical work in potions and herbology, this day saw Harry doing nothing but theory. To Harry, this was the most boring part of Hogwarts. Theory never appealed to him. For him, magic was just magic and there was no need for an explanation for everything. Feelings were more important than reason and he believed the patronus charm to be the embodiment of evidence for his case.

Most of the day was spent pretending to read a textbook on the subject at hand, while he actually read up on the French language in preparation for the events in three years. There was the fact that knowing another language was a helpful skill and that if he could speak it, he could communicate with new people. That was important, he supposed. But in reality the main reason he wanted to learn it was to hear what people said when they thought no one could understand them. Cruel remarks, sabotage, and the likes. No matter what, whether it be good or bad, Harry wanted to know.

Apparently Voldemort never bothered to learn French before his horcrux was embedded within Harry's scar. It was a possibility that the dark lord learned it after being resurrected, but Harry doubted it. More likely, if Riddle wanted to know something from a person speaking another language, he would rip it from their mind. If he wanted someone to do something, he would use the imperius curse. For him, it was simpler and it established who was the most powerful.

Harry couldn't deny the effectiveness of his enemy's method. It _was_ an effective way to get things done. However, it was also extremely immoral and while Voldemort had no issues with anything related to morals, Harry did. He would kill those who were enemies and might even be able to convince himself to kill someone who was wandless and defenseless if he suspected that they could rise to power again. Truly, he had few morals when it came to his enemies. Too many people had died by their hands in his previous life for him to care for them anymore.

When it came to his allies, though, Harry would not harm them. Those who supported him deserved his support in turn and he could never punish them for a poor plan or poor performance. He couldn't force them to do his bidding. He was no leader in the classic sense of the word. He was a creator, one who would sponsor a movement and found it, but allow others to help just as equally as him.

At last, classes for the day ended and Harry made his way to the Great Hall for dinner. He sat next to Neville and decided to talk with the boy. He had been neglecting Neville lately and wanted to rectify that.

"Hey Neville," he said as he settled himself on the bench, "how's it going."

"Err… alright Harry… Y-you?" the boy stammered.

"Yeah it was alright, bit boring though with all the theory work."

"Y-yeah. I always love to w-work on plants in Sprout's c-class and am d-disappointed when we don't," he mumbled.

"Oh, yeah! You're pretty good in herbology, aren't you," queried Harry, acting like it was something that had just occurred to him. Neville's face flushed red in embarrassment, but he gave a shy nod in confirmation.

"I'm alright," he muttered.

Harry looked at the boy with a scowl on his face. Neville's self-confidence at this point in time that he doubted his abilities even when they were prodigal. Self-doubt wasn't something Harry was unfamiliar with, but the extent of its effects on Neville were absurd. Harry really hated himself for not helping the boy sooner.

"No need to be so humble, we're friends here, right. There is no such thing as bragging among friends."

Though Neville's eyes widened in surprise, his smile grew and grew. By the end he wore a grin that seemed able to envelop the entire world.

"Tell you what, Neville. I have a compartment in my trunk dedicated towards growing plants. Problem is that I'm awful at Herbology. If you're interested, I would love it if you would spend some free time gardening in there.

Neville's eyes widened in shock and happiness before he returned to his downtrodden look. "I couldn't possibly-"

Harry cut him off. "Sure you could. If you don't do it, that compartment will just be a waste. If it is something that makes you happy I can think of no better purpose for it." Harry gave a reaffirming smile and hoped that his words would finally convince the boy. He realized that making Neville more confident would be more complicated than it appeared on paper.

Thankfully, Neville apparently was tired of convincing Harry of his worthlessness for the moment, so he gave another shy smile before nodding his head and accepting.

Harry wanted to push further and invite Neville to go do something with him, but he figured that after such a difficult battle it would be best to temporarily retreat to allow his victory time to settle in the boy's mind. As nice as such a thought was, changing Neville's self-confidence would not happen in one sitting.

"Alright then," he said, standing up, "Whenever you want access, just let me know and I'll let you right in." He doubted Neville would approach him. No, Harry knew he would have to push the boy in the right direction, but planting the idea in his friend's head was never a bad thing and maybe, just maybe, the cowardly lion would find courage all on his own.

He wandered back to the Gryffindor tower, happy that his week of school was finished at last. Finally Harry would have the opportunity to fix his wrongs by retrieving his godfather from his comatose state.

Along the way, he passed Oliver who had a broom slung over his shoulder, presumably to go set up for the night's quidditch practice.

"Hey Harry," he called brightly, "You ready for practice today?"

Harry really wasn't in the mood to entertain a quidditch fanatic, so he grit his teeth together and did something he would swear denial of to his grave. He pulled a Malfoy. Rubbing his elbow he feigned a look of sorrow. "Er… about that. You see, my arm is still kinda sore and I hear that the best solution for remaining pain is sleep. So, for the goodness of the team, of course, I decided that I ought to go to sleep early."

Really it was a good thing that Oliver had the talent to enter the professional quidditch league because he stood no chance in getting an academic related job. Immediately buying the lie, Oliver beamed at his seeker. "Yes, way to think for the good of the team. I'll let them know that you're sacrificing some quidditch time for our good."

Harry panicked. He really didn't want to die early from the anger of the chasers who would surely kill to get a break from Oliver's obsession and were under the impression that if they had to suffer, everyone had to.

While Oliver was generally extremely clueless, the chasers tended to be sharp and Harry had no doubt that they would pick up on his lie immediately. "Yeah! Er- no need for that," Harry claimed as his mind whirled for an escape. His mental genius made an appearance. "It wouldn't be good for the team's moral to know that the seeker is injured, would it? No, no, no. Instead we ought to keep the appearance of my excellent health, right? Not to mention the possibility of a Slytherin spy over-hearing and taking advantage of it in our next match."

Oliver paused. "But Harry, we're against Hufflepuff, not Slytherin."

 _Shit._ "But surely the Slytherins would spread the news to the Hufflepuffs just to see us lose. They may not like them, but a Gryffindor loss is a Slytherin win, even if Hufflepuff wins, right?"

"You're right!" Oliver exclaimed. He then gave Harry an inquisitive look. "Do you really think they'll be spying today?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sure they always have a spy. Can't trust them, can you? Probably hidden underneath a bleacher in the stands or something. In fact, I hear they trained up a third year named Leo to spy on the Gryffindor team." Harry really hoped that there was a Slytherin named Leo. Mixing up their year and thinking they were a spy was a simple mistake, but messing up the name in conjunction with the two would make for a rather awkward encounter with Oliver later. Before Oliver could stomp off and tear apart the stadium in search of an imaginary spy named Leo, Harry decided to give an excuse to his captain, knowing that if Oliver was asked by the chasers, he would never be able to come up with a lie in time. "Anyway, in case there is a spy, you ought to tell everyone that you ran me through some drills early this morning and claim that you heard rumors that someone wanted to make me fall of the broom in practice."

Oliver's eyes widened. "Someone is trying to sabotage us?"

Harry sighed, "No, but tell the team that someone is to avoid any suspicion about me being hurt.

"Right," Oliver tossed over his shoulder as he sprinted towards the quidditch pitch to begin what would surely be a fruitless hunt.

-=IDAFT=-

Harry opted for ignorance until he made it to his trunk. Every shout of his name or attempt to pull him into his conversation was ignored as he pretended to be deaf. It was surprisingly effective considering he was surrounded by boisterous Gryffindors who often struggled to pick up social queues. Harry was on a mission and could afford no setbacks… or, rather, he didn't want any setbacks.

He climbed up the stairs to his dorm and went to his bed, shutting the curtains behind him. From there, he placed the trunk on his bed and knocked to at last fix the mistake he made that threatened his godfather.

In his rush, he forgot to speak to Twinky to learn how the potion worked. He sprinted to Sirius' bedside after retrieving the most valuable elixir in the world. The stopper was removed and the vial tilted over Sirius' open mouth. Time froze, with Harry marked by an ecstatic look on his face, Sirius with a goofy one with saliva building up in his mouth, and Twinky watching in horror as she teleported to her master to see if she could help him with anything.

It sped up again with a snap. At least, most of the room did. The elixir that had started to drip from the vial remained frozen in the air mere centimeters above Sirius' mouth. Furious green eyes twisted to sent piercing curses into the only magical in the room who could act with only a snap. Twinky didn't back down.

Harry's voice dropped with an unusual venom as he addressed his apparently treasonous house elf. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" His words came out as a growl, more viscous than any werewolf could ever hope to achieve.

"Master mustn't bes rushing elixir. Master doesn't understands how it works." Though her voice shook slightly, she refused to remove the magic that seemed to have froze time in that small area.

Harry froze and his face morphed through several emotions. Anger. Disbelief. Shock. Disappointment. Sorrow. He looked towards his house elf and apologized profusely. "I'm so sorry for snapping at you like that. Please explain how to use the elixir."

Twinky nodded and the shoulders she hadn't known to be tense finally relaxed. "The elixir bes much like a metamorphmagus transformation, 'cept it bes actually altering the inside and outside. Yous must imagine the drinker precisely as you wants them to bes. Their mind and body."

A nod came from the sheepish boy as he turned to face the floating vial and elixir again. "I understand," he said as he moved the vial and scooped the elixir out of the air and back into its hold, "Thank you Twinky."

The house elf released her charm and the weirdly shaped liquid in the vial plopped back down to join the rest of the elixir. It settled while Harry pondered.

What exactly defined Sirius. His body was simple enough, after seeing a combination of Sirius as he was and the Sirius pre-Azkaban from pictures, Harry mentally put together a body that it seemed likely Sirius would have grown into had he not lived in paradise's opposite.

The mind, though, that was a fundamentally different factor and far more tricky. What was Sirius like? What was his personality and motives? How did he think when in peace and how did he think in battle?

There were so many things to consider and yet he wanted more than anything to have his godfather back at that very moment. Harry took a seat on the foot of Sirius' bed and lowered his head to think. His eyes closed as he remembered the Sirius he had come to love and the Sirius people told stories about before Harry's travel through universe and time.

The first thing he remembered was his initial encounter with Sirius. Immediately after he blew up his Aunt Marge like a balloon, Harry was alone and seeming had no where to go. Sirius came up to him as Padfoot and calmed him down before helping him summon the knight bus. He was sure Sirius would never admit it, Sirius was sensitive to other people's feelings.

The second scene that came to mind was loyalty. Of course there was the obvious fact that he was a dog animagus, an animal commonly associated with the trait of loyalty, but his human side was rather loyal as well.

Harry recalled the impassioned shouting in the Shrieking Shack on the day when he learned of Sirius' innocence.

"He would have killed me Sirius," Pettigrew had whimpered in justification for his actions.

Sirius, however, did not find that reason valid. "Then you should have died," Sirius had roared, "Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!"

Sirius had many traits and loyalty seemed to reign supreme.

The man was also apparently rather funny, though Harry hadn't experienced that humor too much in his past life. Azkaban likely sucked the humor right out of him.

He was wise too. "The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," the man had told Harry, "We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we chose to act on. That's who we really are."

Harry also compiled a list of Sirius' abilities. He was an excellent duelist, able to hold of Bellatrix Lestrange and even taunt her, only losing because of his own arrogance. He was excellent at transfiguration as shown by his mastery of the animagus transformation and he also above average in most of the other core subjects as well. From the story's Harry heard from Sirius' past, the man was extremely charming if he wanted to be. He could also find his way out of tricky situations, the ultimate proof of that being his escape of Azkaban.

Slowly Harry compiled a list of traits and skills that applied to his godfather. He stood up to pour the elixir down the man's mouth, but hesitated. Yes, Sirius was all of those things, but he also had some major flaws that Harry hadn't thought of. The man Harry was so close to creating was a perfect man without flaws, but that perfect man wouldn't be Sirius, just an imposter in Sirius' body.

Harry sat back down to think about the bad side of Sirius, the side he didn't want to admit existed, but knew in his heart that it did. The man was cocky to a fault and that led to his death at the hands of Bellatrix. He was impulsive which led to his imprisonment in Azkaban. He was ruthless, which served him well in battle, but poorly outside, as it made unnecessary enemies.

Tears slid down Harry's face as he mentally tore down the perfect image of his godfather. The man was rude, only kind when he wished to be. He was foolish, always believing that everything was funny. He was a bully and sucked at Herbology. He was immature at all times, even the worst.

Harry stood up and dried his cheeks and eyes before walking over to Sirius. He remembered all of that and so much more as he poured the source of life down the father-figure's throat. It seemed to take an eternity for everything to fall into his mouth. The swallow coaxed from the outside of his throat seemed to echo through the room.

For a while, nothing happened and Harry felt the reach of despair closing around his heart. The man stopped breathing. One second. One minute. Two. And the man lurched upwards with a sharp gasp for air.

Before Harry's eyes, Sirius' appearance began to change. The hair that had streaks of grey from the stress of Azkaban became a silky, wavy mass of black and his pale sunken skin turned smooth and tanned. His wrinkly fingers and face straightened out as he seemed to age from 80 to 30. His body grew redefined, what was previously all bone became a mixture of fat and muscle.

The labored breathing became consistent throughout the duration of these changes and soon Harry only waited for his eyes to open. One at a time, deep and mysterious grey eyes revealed themselves to the world and the body that had lunged forward, slowly let itself fall back into the bed.

The man's hands came to his face and his eyes reveled in their perfection with confusion. It took a while for the hands to lower as the man seemed unable to believe that such hands belonged to him after so many years.

Grey eyes met green and Sirius' mouth opened to speak. In perfect form, with no trace of disuse, his voice came from his body.

"What the hell happened," he muttered as he propped himself up to lean against the headboard.

Harry didn't answer, instead opting to throw himself at his godfather for a tight hug. Everything else could wait. Sirius was back.

 **AN:** Terribly sorry about the delay. I had a ridiculous amount of trouble finding the right words to put this chapter together. That combined with school work really made this take far longer than I wished it to. Obviously that weekly upload thing isn't going to work for me. Anyways, please let me know what you think and as always, if you notice any errors, please message me them via PM.


	23. Chapter 23: Invitations

With his godfather now saved from a fate nearly as terrible as receiving the dementor's kiss, Harry was now able to focus on his remaining goals for his first year at Hogwarts. Before the Hogwarts Express, Harry planned for his first year to be spent bonding with Neville and riding the boy of his self doubt. It might have been a result of his recent success, but now Harry thought that solely focusing on Neville would be a waste, not to mention a likely failure.

From his memory of Neville during the period where Harry taught Dumbledore's army, Harry decided that Neville wasn't exactly one for solo work, nor one on one encouragement. Harry suspected that the biggest reason Neville continued to go to the meetings was because seeing everyone else struggle and strive for improvement gave him a sense of belonging.

Oh, Harry knew he would have to spend more time with Neville in his planned training session. Amongst the other participants that he had in mind, Harry was nearly positive that Neville would be the weakest link at the start. Due to his failures in class, Neville was sure to be a bit behind people who succeeded due to a lack if self doubt.

To solve this whilst also showing Neville a view of others failing so his self doubt wouldn't grow, Harry decided that the small group he put together would have to complete various tasks that would be extremely difficult for your average first year, or even second year, to do. From there, he would offer advise on how to improve focusing slightly more on Neville until the boy caught up with his peers. It was a plan he hoped would work without issue.

Harry also planned to use two vials of the elixir of life to heal Neville's parents. He wouldn't do it immediately, though. As much as Harry felt bad for leaving two people in a state that he was capable of healing, Harry also knew that the 'revival' of the Longbottoms would only place more stress on Neville in the boy's current state.

If Harry had to guess, he would suspect that Neville's greatest fear was his parents being disappointed in him. As things were, Neville's parents were incapable of expressing feelings, for better or for worst. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that if he healed the couple they would only Express encouragement for Neville.

Neville wouldn't see it that way, though. To Neville, his parent's wouldn't be proud because he was only a little better than a squib. Their words would be meaningless, only spoken because as Neville's parents they had to encourage him. In his current state, Neville would be unable to handle the return of his parents.

With that in mind, Harry would train Neville until he one of the best students in his year. He would build the boy's confidence through praise from teachers and repeated success. And then, when Neville believed that he was not a disgrace to his family name, Harry would offer his friend two vials of the elixir of life.

He had waited a couple of days before gently guiding Neville towards his trunk's amazing greenhouse and bit by bit the boy was beginning to approach Harry on his own for access. Now Harry felt that Neville could handle the social interaction that group training would entail and he hoped a sufficiently strong relationship had been born between himself and his dorm mate.

Slowly, Harry began to scrawl a list while scampering through his mind. Who to train? Who was likely to stick with him to the end, or at least not fight against him. Quickly he wrote down every first year he had come into contact with so far.

He was fairly sure that he could beat every student at Hogwarts in a duel and then teach them something they didn't know about magical combat. That would be one way to recruit a strong support base. But it was also unrealistic. He would earn respect alright, that was a certainty, but among that respect some older students would loathe him. How dare a first year defeat those who had attended magical schooling for six more years than he? A large part of it would be jealousy. Another part would be pride. It was never an easy thing to admit that someone was better, much less a person who hadn't even entered puberty.

He supposed that some second years and maybe even some third years would be willing to listen to him. He briefly considered inviting Fred, George, and Katie, Angelina, and Alicia to his training. He pushed that thought away.

For now he would stick to his age group and perhaps in the following years he would accept some younger years as well. As much as he knew that the five aforementioned people would listen to him and follow his instructions, he also knew that it simply wasn't his time yet. No, the pivotal year at Hogwarts, the one where it was socially understandable for upper years to listen to someone younger, was fifth year. In fifth year students began to study for their OWLs and gained a respect for that.

When he became a fifth year, Harry would broaden his group to include older students as well. By then he probably would have a reputation for being knowledgeable and helpful too. Instead of the secrecy he would hold with his group for the first four years, Harry would allow them to leak tidbits of how he had helped them and begin to attract the interest of students who wanted to become better at magic.

Still, whether it be this year or seventh or any year in between, Harry would have to be selective about who he trained. With that thought, he scratched Draco Malfoy off the list he had finished. For now they had a tentative alliance, but Harry doubted it would last into his third year. He planned on claiming Dobby at the end of his second year and was sure that such an action would cause a split between him and the Malfoy heir. Even if it didn't, his previous life made him far too suspicious of the boy to even consider training him.

Slowly, he scratched name after name from his list. For each name, he thought carefully on what they would gain by remaining loyal to him, what their personality was like, and what they would gain from betraying him.

From the Gryffindor girls, Harry swiped through all of their names. Inviting Parvarti and Lavender would be foolish. The two were notorious for their gossip and leaked secrets nearly as much as Hagrid. Hermione's need to follow the rules and listen to authority would make her a liability too. Some of the stuff they did in training wouldn't be strictly legal, the most obvious being the training dummies he intended to utilize. The final girl of the Gryffindor first years was Fay Dunbar. Harry didn't have anything bad to say about her and, as such, couldn't make a proper assessment of her. All he knew was that she was silent and rarely accompanied anyone in the halls. Harry couldn't think if a way to get to know if she was trustworthy, so he just crossed her off the list.

The Gryffindor boys had a similar story. Neville would be invited, of course, but the rest of them were just too immature to last a day under Harry's training. They wouldn't take it seriously and would consequently be injured. Badly.

As much as Harry wanted to have at least one member of each house, he found himself unable to think of anyone who he would let join. In this life, he hadn't really even spoken much to any of them. He knew little, and so he found himself crossing them off the list. Maybe once he had trained the original group a bit he could ask if they knew a Ravenclaw that was trustworthy and ready to learn. From there he would start to get to know that person better.

For Hufflepuff, Harry decided to stay cautious again. After consideration, Susan Bones was the only name left for their house. He briefly thought about including Hannah Abbott, but decided that her connection with Susan wouldn't be enough just yet. He resolved that the next year would have her at the top of his recruitment list provided nothing happened.

From Slytherin Harry chose only Daphne Greengrass. From the time he spent with her, he had determined that she was trustworthy. She could be manipulative at times, but never to him. Despite her cold exterior she was a kind person. The most important detail that supported Harry's decision to trust her was that she had absolutely nothing to gain and everything to lose if she decided to betray him. He had a promise to keep with her anyway. He said he would protect he from her housemates and the best way to do that was by teaching her to protect herself.

Similarly to Hannah, Tracy Davis was also considered due to her association with one of the people Harry decided to include. In contrast to Hannah, though, Harry had seen her turn on her best friend before and was rather reluctant to give her the opportunity to turn on him. Time would tell whether he could trust her.

Folding up the list and casting a weak incendio on it, Harry thought on his choices. It was a good group and the small number would allow him to help them improve quickly through concentrated training. He was almost positive they would all accept. Neville would try to turn Harry down at first by saying he would only hold Harry back, but Harry would be insistent and the boy would give in. Susan would accept without hesitation due to her goal to be like her aunt. Harry would need to explain his reasoning to Daphne, but after a strong argument, he knew she would join him.

With his mind now settled on the group, Harry began to plot how the first lesson would go. He needed something difficult, but not impossible. Something that he could do with enough effort, but that all three of them combined would be unable to surpass at first. And it had to be practical – something useful in a combative situation. A smirk made it's way onto Harry's face.

'Oh, that's perfect,' he thought before chuckling and walking off to go to sleep.

For the most part, things went exactly as Harry foresaw. He went to Neville first, thinking that the boy might benefit from being asked first, as well as figuring that Neville would be the most difficult to convince. Surprisingly, he was wrong in that regard. Neville did put up a struggle at first, but when Harry assured him that he wouldn't be holding anyone back, he eventually agreed.

Daphne was next, and she put up a slightly larger fight than Neville. Harry had walked up to her during lunch, something that wasn't at all unusual at this point. They ate and talked like they always did and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Harry had a private meeting to set, though, which wasn't something that they had all too often. Daphne initially came to him for a public show of support to receive unofficial protection from Slytherin ill-wishers. To that end, private meetings were unnecessary, but am occasional one or two wouldn't go amiss.

He performed a complicated swapping charm beneath the table to send the small parchment note in his hand to her pocket, replacing it with nothing but air. That bit of spell work relied on knowledge and a good guess as to where the pocket was, but after asking Twinky to determine Daphne's robe size, he had a fairly good estimate and nailed it on his first and only try.

That alone wouldn't be enough to inform her of the meaning. Most witches and wizards didn't really use their pockets, preferring satchels, pouches, and feather light trunks to move their things from place to place. Daphne, he knew, carried a pouch with an undetectable expansion charm to hold all of her stuff as well as a stasis room to prevent the contents from breaking one another. Basically, she never used her robe pockets.

So Harry needed a way to alert her of the note's presence without making anyone else suspicious. The solution was quite simple, though he was sure that Daphne wouldn't like it. He tried to make it as painless as possible by using as little magic as possible, but the stinging hex was still a certain amount of pain concentrated in one spot. No matter how little power, it still hurt.

Unsurprisingly, Daphne jumped a bit before shooting him a glare. In response, Harry just winked and patted his own robes inconspicuously. Daphne gave no sign of understanding, except for a small nearly imperceptible nod.

When lunch was finished, Harry walked out to set up for the meeting. Daphne looked around subtly to make sure no one was looking and took a sharp turn into an abandoned classroom, casting a scourgify in front of her to cleanse the dust scattered across the floor. She pulled out the note and read.

 _Third Floor, One-Eyed Witch. Tap the eye and say "Dissendium". I will meet you there._

 _~HP_

Daphne had never heard of a secret passage on the third floor. In all likelihood that had something to do with the third floor corridor being forbidden to anyone who didn't wish to "die a painful death". She was sure that some Gryffindors took those words as a challenge, but no one from Slytherin would tempt fate like that. Considering she got all of her information about the castle from Slytherin sources, she didn't really know anything about the third floor.

Normally she wouldn't set foot in a dangerous place based on the word of one person. Normally. Harry, however had sent her that note and he wasn't one to put people in needless danger. In conjunction with the secret message from a typically open person, she was far too intrigued to pass on the meeting.

Harry waited silently in the passage to Honeydukes beneath his invisibility cloak. Not many knew about the passage, but a bit more security never hurt. Those who used the passage were typically those who got in trouble. Because of that, he had his trunk in the palm of his hand to be set down on the floor when Daphne arrived. While troublemakers would have no problem eavesdropping, they also wouldn't put too much effort into investigating something else.

Should someone see the trunk in the passage the first thing they would do is attempt to open it, hoping that some idiot left a store of butterbeer or, even better, firewhiskey. If that attempt failed, they would probably leave the trunk alone. They typically had better things to do.

He didn't have to wait long. Daphne entered the passage with a look of bewilderment on her face. He guessed that she hadn't yet had time to explore the lesser known wonders of Hogwarts. While she looked around, Harry took off his invisibility cloak and set the trunk down on the ground, expanding it and dropping his cloak into storage before changing the trunk to the library compartment.

"You coming?" he asked, startling Daphne from her curious surveying. He dropped down while telling Daphne to shut the lid behind her.

Harry noticed Daphne's curious gaze around his library. She appeared to be taking mental notes on the style and exactly what books Harry's collection had. Though it was really too late to prevent her from seeing what she already had, Harry led her to one of the private rooms to avoid potential roaming and further exploration. As nice as their friendship was so far, the knowledge of his friends' betrayal in his previous life burned in the back of his mind. There was no reason to let her know everything he studied just yet.

They walked into the private room and Harry raised his arm, silently offering her any pick among the 4 chairs in the room. When she was settled, he selected his own. They sat in silence for a minute, taking in the silence of the room and its décor.

Daphne spoke first. "So, Harry, what is this all about? Why all the secrecy?"

Harry paused for a moment to collect the correct words to use in response. "Well, as I'm sure you noticed from your glances at the books around my library, I am quite well read and particularly interested in combative magic." There was no way she missed those details, the vast majority of his books were on combative spells and strategy and Daphne's keen mind would have picked up on that. "What you don't know, is that there is a high likelihood that Voldemort still lives," he said, bluntly.

Daphne let out an almost imperceptible shiver at the dark lord's name, but otherwise she gave no outward reaction. After a moment she arched and eyebrow with an inquisitive look on her face. "My family has always entertained the idea that he might still exist, but we tended to lean towards disbelief; placing our doubts in the background and believing them to be paranoia," as she spoke she leaned towards him and rested her hands together on the table between them. "Then again, from what I've noticed about you, you try not to lie and generally speak up only when you are certain. Perhaps some evidence wouldn't be amiss." She looked at him with a gaze prodding him to speak.

Harry sighed and leaned back, setting the distance between them equal to when they had been sat upright at the start of their talk. "I suppose the most indisputable, but potentially unreliable piece of evidence is that there was no body found at the scene where he supposedly died. All that was found was his cloak. Take note of the fact that there was no wand found at the scene. Now, why would a dead man's wand go missing. From the remnant dark magic left behind at the scene, we also know that the last spell cast there was the killing curse. No matter what it is cast upon, the killing curse leaves evidence of being cast. If it hits a body, the body remains in tact. If it hits an object, the object is blasted into pieces. Were that the case, even if there was so much shrapnel that his body was obliterated, there would still be a splatter of blood somewhere."

Daphne nodded, "That makes sense, but it still doesn't prove he isn't dead. Someone could have easily apparated his body away. There were signs of apparation outside the house if I remember correctly."

She was correct, there were signs of apparation, but they weren't from a death eater moving Voldemort's body. Its was Pettigrew fleeing the scene as soon as he realized his master had failed. He could tell her that to debunk her current theory, but without conclusive proof, it was his word against the wizarding world's. That wasn't exactly the best scenario in his mind. Instead he went for the sinker.

"That is true of course, but it should be noted that none of the dark marks – Mark's of servitude linked directly to his will have completely disappeared. The dead have no will power while those near death have will, but not power." He paused to let her ponder that before continuing while he had the advantage of her self-doubt.

"It also helps that I caught Quirrell talking to himself about how he was following the dark lord's orders and how he would be rewarded." Her eyes widened. It was a risky gambit on Harry's end, letting her know that Voldemort had someone inside the castle, but he reasoned with himself that it wasn't game breaking news. He was pretty sure Dumbledore already knew and knew for a fact that Snape was aware. Giving Daphne that Intel would bring no harm sans a healthy dose of fear.

It was also true that Daphne couldn't just go around the school preaching how Voldemort was still alive and had a servant within the school. Not only would no one believe her, but Dumbledore would find a means to quiet her. Daphne would know that and therefore wouldn't speak.

Her jaw was set, giving her face a sort of crooked look. It was a small break in her normal façade of indifference. This was what Daphne truly looked like when she was shocked into deep thought. She appeared to stare through the wall behind Harry, perhaps trying to set up a mental black board in its place. Suddenly, her eyes snapped back into focus and her jaw realigned itself.

She spoke with a chilling voice, not one that indicated anger or indifference, but one that just hinted about a deep desire for her conclusion to be wrong.

Harry knew that he would have to give a confident answer. Nothing else would reassure the girl of the truth in his words and his convictions against his enemy.

"Yes."

Green eyes met blue and a silent connection was born between them, the kind formed only when two people know a potentially world-shattering secret. Harry spoke again.

"This isn't going to mean our death. The wizarding world will take damage, there is no denying that, but it will go on, I will ensure that. But, as much as I wish to and as powerful as I am, I cannot save the world on my own. I brought you here with a proposal. I do not expect you to fight for me. I do not expect you to fight at all. But I do hope that when the time comes, you will have the tools to save your life and your family's." He held out a hand towards her, palm facing up. "I am offering to teach you to survive and retaliate if you wish as no defense is perfect without a bit of retaliation. Will you, Daphne Greengrass, except my offer." His eyebrow raised and he looked at her expectantly.

She didn't move.

 **AN: So I decided to leave you guys on a cliffhanger this time. I apologize for any grammatical errors or writing mistakes you might find. I am really sick at the moment, but I wanted to get this chapter out, so it may be a bit shaky.**

 **As a side note, I've recently considered beginning another story to increase the frequency of my writing as a muse strikes for either one. I told myself I would focus on one story at a time, but my mind runs rampant and I have ideas.**

 **The idea of the story is a Harry Potter/Avengers crossover. Here's the summary I would give:**

 **Harry has been thrown into Azkaban without a trial and everyone seems to have abandoned or betrayed him. He built his power in his cell until a weary dog comes to deliver him an enchanted pouch. Will Harry be able to find salvation among others as broken as him?**

 **If you like the idea, please let me know in the comments. If you want all of my attention on IDAFT, but less work output from me, tell me to focus on IDAFT.**


	24. Chapter 24: Playing with Emotions

A week had passed by since Harry had offered invitations to his first allies and he still hadn't brought them in for a lesson. His lack of action had all three of them giving him strange looks, some more subtle than other. Harry realized that he probably should have planned an introductory lesson before he invited them.

He looked around the Great Hall and caught each of their eyes, giving them a subtle wink. It had taken him longer than he would've liked, but he had finally come up with a decent lesson to start. It took influence from the legendary auror and seemingly unkillable man (until he was killed), Alastor Moody. If he was being honest, he also allowed a bit of Sirius' ideas slip in there too.

-=IDAFT=-

The man had become exceedingly reckless and Harry finally decided to give him something to do after Twinky informed her master that she had caught Sirius trying to sneak out of the trunk. When confronted about it, he claimed without shame that he planned to walk around the halls as a dog for old times sake. A couple of days prior to his final decision on lesson plans, he had consulted Sirius, both to give the man something to do and because Harry was truly struggling at them time.

At the time, he was considering starting his chosen three off the same way he had with the DA, but he wasn't really satisfied with the end results of that little rebellion. His words and lessons, led people to believe they had become invincible because their failures never had consequences. All the DA knew was the mantra 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.' The results of such an idea were rather terrible.

Fred Weasley had died taking on one of the sneakier Death Eaters in Voldemort's ranks, Augustus Rookwood, along with several other lesser Death Eaters with only the support of his brother, Percy. To be fair, Harry couldn't exactly blame himself for that one considering the boy's age exceeded his own, but he was sure the tales of his own success against impossible odds hadn't helped Fred's fight-or-flight responses.

Another victim from his group had been Lavender Brown who had somehow gotten into a tangle with Fenrir Greyback. She had fought one of the most savage followers of Voldemort and, if the look of shock that stretched across he scratched face were any indication, obviously hadn't expected to be killed because of it.

Finally, probably the most obvious case of Harry's lessons gone wrong and an unhealthy hero-worship, Colin Creevey had snuck onto the battlefield and gotten killed because of it. He could understand some of the students participating in the battle; the stronger ones who could hold their own in a fight, but some of the students who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts were not of that variety. Colin Creevey just one of the students who paid the price for it.

The majority of the DA should never have participated in that battle as foot soldiers.

Some of the better fliers might have been fine on a broom lobbing potions down on the enemy's head, but with the idea of getting glory and helping their leader, the great Harry Potter, they charged into battles like idiots.

Those thoughts were snatched away from him by the distressed voice of Twinky, dragging Sirius on the floor by the ear as she told Harry of his escape attempt:

" **Master Harry," she cried, "Mister Black bes very near the top of the ladder whens Twinky be catching him." She finished her statement by releasing Sirius by Harry's feet moaning in pain.**

" **Devil of an elf," Sirius muttered. In response, Twinky raised her hand and Sirius flinched back. The elf gained an uncharacteristic domineering smirk at that.**

 **Harry stopped pacing to look down at the idiot he called a godfather as the man writhed on the floor clutching his extremely red ear.**

" **Sirius," he said in a dangerous voice, his mood already dark from his lack of successful planning. The man looked up at him with the eyes of a dog caught raiding the trash can. "Would you care to explain why you were trying to leave the apartment."**

 **Sirius scrambled for words as he tried to think up a reasonable excuse for leaving the trunk. "Well… uh… you see, I heard a strange noise from outside and thought someone might be trying to break into your trunk and figured I'd go stop them." His voice carried a hopeful sound, one that was just begging to be devastated.**

" **I'm sure," Harry muttered, "Now we both know that you're lying considering the rune I drew on the entrance to make it so outside sounds only came through when the rune is deactivated, but even if you were telling the truth, you are still an idiot."**

 **Sirius gained a wounded look at this, as if he were in disbelief at his godson's betrayal. Harry continued to stare down at the man, adopting a singularly unimpressed look.**

" **Tell me Sirius," he continued adopting a tone and mannerism frighteningly similar to a scolding Voldemort, "exactly who would have both access to the trunk** _ **and**_ **enough knowledge to successfully break into this trunk?"**

 **The man opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by Harry's self-answer. "The only people who would have the knowledge to potentially break into this trunk are seventh year students and the professors. That said, there are only ten seventh years in Gryffindor, none of which have any connection to the tenants of this dorm, so if they were to come into the dorm to break into my trunk, things would've been awfully suspicious. In addition to that, it would likely take days for a seventh year to both identify all of the protections and take them down without encountering a fail safe. They would have inevitably been caught."**

" **That leaves the professors. Once again, that group is seriously diminished by people who have access and reason to enter the Gryffindor first years' dorm room. The only two people who would realistically do so are McGonagall and Dumbledore. Now, not only is McGonagall not a rune's expert, but she also is fairly absent in regards to the Gryffindor dorms, really only ever entering the common room when there is a party running too late or with an important announcement. She's entirely too busy otherwise."**

" **As such, the only remaining candidate is Dumbledore... and allow me put things frankly Sirius. If Dumbledore were trying to get into my trunk, he would first have to either smash through all of the defenses with power or unravel them skillfully, in either case, I have no doubt that he would succeed and do it quickly, however, that would be as far as he got. Twinky would sense the magic and employ some other failsafes to delay him or outright prevent him from entering the trunk."**

" **Finally, and, in my opinion, most damningly, regardless of who was trying to enter the trunk - regardless of their ability to do so, I really must ask… WHAT THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO ONCE THEY SAW YOU?" Harry roared at the last bit, his frustration finally overflowing from the boiling pot of emotions.**

 **From this tirade, Sirius, admittedly looked ashamed. He looked up at his godson who was slowly slumping over, his frustration leaving his body and being overtaken by the despair he would feel if his godfather was captured again and given the dementor's kiss as consequence.**

 **A tear slowly fell down his face and was followed by another. A smooth river began to form beneath his eyes, composed of the worst thoughts that Harry had within him, his self-consciousness and lack of belief in himself.**

" **I'm sorry," Sirius murmured before pulling Harry into a hug.**

After a good mutual crying session, not that they'd ever admit it happened, Harry and his godfather began to speak about the future, inspired by the terrible future that could have come to be. That led to Harry discussing his tutoring decision and the creation of his first lesson.

-=IDAFT=-

Previously, when he first invited his friends to join his little lesson he had given them a location to meet with him. Now he waited for them to show up, casually lounging at the base of the whomping willow where the branches couldn't reach him and he could easily hit the knot that rested near its base.

Neville was the first to arrive and he fell onto his arse in surprise when he saw where Harry was waiting. Instead of standing up, Neville elected to remain on the ground, only propped up by his arms to watch as the willow desperately tried to stretch straight down and whack Harry.

It was to this sight that Susan arrived. She saw Neville first and, with concern etched onto her features, she offered him a hand up and asked if he was okay. Neville obliviously continued to stare and left Susan's hand hanging. Finally noticing his widened eyes, Susan turned around and saw where Harry was. Though she managed to stay on her feet, her eyes widened just as wide as Neville's were.

They stayed there until Daphne arrived, looking as cool as ever, but if one looked closely enough, they might find a few specks of dust that stubbornly clung to her dress from the route she elected to take. Far more observant and slightly less caring about the clutz on the ground, Daphne took immediate note of where their stares were directed. Instead of openly freaking out like they did, she furrowed her eyebrow in confusion and her heart began to race. Was this the first lesson Harry had for them? She had come expecting something a little more than the current course work the first years had. In fact, she expected it to be a lot harder considering how incompetent their current teacher was. But this was by far tougher than even her wildest predictions.

The Whomping Willow was something of a legend at Hogwarts. Rumors spread rampant about why it was ever planted and it was often used has the topic for a dangerous dare. She wasn't certain about the logic behind planting the tree, especially where it was. It offered no defensive capabilities, being far enough away from the school that any person who wished to invade the school for some reason could easily stay out of its way. She also knew that Professor Sprout never actually used the Whomping Willow for a lesson. It was one of the more dangerous plants in the magical world and only those who were curious or wanted a mastery in Herbology would dare to study it in person.

A tale was spread to the first years after every sorting that the willow was nothing more than a savage. They said that it was sentient in a sense and that it would kill anyone that ever dared enter its domain. They even claimed that a past student had nearly died in its presence. She wasn't sure if the last one was true, but she certainly believed that the willow could kill anything it could reach.

Yet Harry was sitting calmly beneath the tree as if it were nothing more than an ordinary oak. His eyes seemed to snap from a daydream to meet hers and he proceeded to sweep his eyes over the trio of students he had decided to teach. With a casual wave of his hand, he beckoned them to join him under the tree of death.

For the first time she remembered, Daphne felt her body temperature rise from fear and a small bead of sweat ruined the perfect face that she was expected to wear and took pleasure in having. Her mind raced with options to find herself living the next morning. If anyone got wind of her fleeing like a coward she and her family would face ridicule. Slytherins didn't rush into danger, true, but they didn't run away. They would avoid the situation altogether if possible. It was too late for that by now.

At last she arrived at the only answer she could think of in such a short period of time. She walked over to Neville and whacked him upside the head, knocking him out of his paralyzed fear. Giving him and Susan a stern look, she spoke in her bravest voice to get them going.

"Come on now," she said, "Harry is waiting. We shouldn't waste his time." Under her words she cackled with glee. Oh she would give the appearance that she was brave, but instead she was planning on having one of the other two go first. She wasn't cruel, but at the end of the day she preferred her life to theirs.

Susan pulled Neville to his feet, but he still remained in the same place. Getting annoyed by the Gryffindor's reluctance to lead the way, she gave him a light push from behind. That wasn't her best idea, as Neville went tumbling to the ground again, not being steady enough on his feet in the first place to turn the falling into a walk.

"Oops," she mumbled while Susan glared at her insensitivity.

After a good bit of coaxing Neville finally got back up, but it was obvious he wouldn't be leading the way. She began to walk and hoped they would follow her to the willow. When they did, she slowed down her pace so slightly that it was barely noticeable, but before they reached the tree, Susan had overtaken her as the leader with her average pace.

When they arrived at the tree, just outside the slashing reach of the willow's branches, Harry looked down at his watch.

"I'm going to admit that I am slightly unimpressed by the fact that it took you 30 minutes to decide to simply walk towards the willow." Harry frowned appearing mad at them. That wasn't the case. He was angered by the way he sounded. How he spoke like he was so superior to them and they were nothing more than a waste of his time. Immediately rectifying his tone, he spoke again, "Anyways you're here now, so in we go."

Daphne's temper finally exploded as she released her fear of the tree, her anger at his condescendence, and a slight disappointment in herself from her lack of forming a better plan. "And how do you expect us to do that, exactly?" she growled and Harry's back straightened against the tree's bark in slight fear. His shoulders slumped a bit before he answered her.

"Do you honestly think so little of me that you believe I would put you in extreme danger immediately?" He stood up, and smiled, all signs of any disappointment gone from his face. Casually, he lifted his leg and bend it to place his foot on the knot that froze the tree. "Come on then," he said sadly whilst pointing to a small tunnel at the tree's base.

Dumbstruck at the ease in which Harry managed to disarm the willow, the group simply followed his order, their brain unable to process anything else about this ludicrous situation. As they walked, Harry gave a mini lecture.

"I suppose in a sense that was your first lesson, though it had many messages. Would anyone care to guess what they are?" No one answered, instead opting to look around for any sign of where they were going in the dark tunnel.

Harry, recognizing this, answered it for them. "The Whomping Willow is a perfect example of how combat isn't all about throwing out spells. It can be potions, fists, swords, and even plants. I doubt any of you could claim that driving an enemy force into something as deadly as the willow wouldn't give a distinct advantage." He sighed as they continued to look around for something hidden within the tunnel's walls. "For example, if I so desired to take you out, I could have lined these walls with a Devil's Snare to silently suffocate you," he told them in an effort to gain their attention. When it didn't immediately work he decided a dose of healthy fear might be in order.

"Speaking of which," he muttered casually, "LOOK OUT!"

A slight wave of his wand was all it took to conjure a small wire to make them all trip over. It wouldn't hurt them, but if they were even peripherally listening to Harry earlier, it would certainly terrify them.

They screamed and fell to the ground in a pile, groaning. Harry walked a few more steps forwards before stopping to turn around and look at the scene. He had to stifle a laugh as Neville desperately tried to find his leg, finally grabbing Susan's arm, getting confused, and freaking out. Eventually, they all managed to separate and stand up, Daphne giving Harry a cold glare that could strike fear in many. In a different situation, the look might have even scared Harry, but after seeing how terribly bad they were at situational awareness, he couldn't find it in himself to feel the least bit terrified of her.

"Honestly, if all it takes to put you guys down is a small little trip wire, then you are going to be in for a load of embarrassment when I actually start teaching." He waved his arms around, as if gesturing a gloat about some grand palace. In reality all he boasted was a small, dark tunnel. "Now that I've got your attention, I suppose that I ought to tell you the tree's second lesson as well as one that hope you just learned now."

"The willow was proof that everything has a weakness if you only take the time to study it and learn. The Whomping Willow's weakness is a small knot at the base of it. If you can press it down, the arms will stop swinging and you're free to pass. It's a weakness so easy to exploit that a first year with sufficient control of the levitation spell could get by the whalopping branches."

"The lesson you should have just learned, is that just as everything has a weakness, so too do they have a strength. This tunnel doesn't have much going for it. Its weakness is how easy it is to enter. I just showed you its strength. It is dark and slim, perfect for trapping. As such, with even the weakest things having strength, you ought to learn that situational awareness is everything when it comes to combative ability and survival."  
With that, he turned around and walked away, leaving behind three befuddled eleven year olds in his wake. Harry knew he shouldn't be so hard on them considering their age, but he also knew that danger waited for no one and cared not about such trivial things as age. The earlier one was prepared, the safer they would be. Besides, the training he was going to give wouldn't be dangerous at all. At worst they might get a bruise.

Looking over his shoulder, Harry saw all three of the students looking down at the ground, carefully searching for another trip wire trap. He sighed and conjured a bar at head height for Susan, who was closest to him, to walk into. A clang echoed through the tunnel and Neville and Daphne both stopped immediately to look down on their fallen comrade.

"Situational awareness does not simply mean awareness of the floor. Maybe if we were walking across an open plain that might work. Right now we are in a tunnel. There are four sides within close contact where traps can be set. We can be attacked from behind or in front. Be more aware." Harry stopped speaking and then looked around a bit. "I suppose it _is_ a bit unfair that I'm right here to activate the traps on you. You know what?" a wicked grin came to Harry's face. "I'll go ahead to the end of the tunnel and wait for you. Shall we see how well you do without someone directly in front of you?"

Without a words, Harry turned around and fled through the tunnel. He jumped and ducked and weaved side to side like a maniac, leaving the group behind him worried and more than a little aggravated.

Harry couldn't help but smile as he disappeared from their view. Everything was going exactly as he and Sirius planned.

-=IDAFT=-

The group Harry left behind found themselves even more weary now that he was gone. It was obvious that he was the one who set the traps for them, but when he was there, they had a small bit of comfort. If they fell, they knew he would be there to pick them back up and make sure they were okay. Now they were alone in a tunnel of traps.

They stood still and for the first time really took in the scenery. The tunnel was dark, that much was sure, and the air was disgustingly musty and humid, clinging to their skin like an unwanted latex bodysuit. Around them droplets echoed - the small, inconsequential bits of remnant rain sounding like monsters in the distance.

The darkness robbed them of their sense of sight. Their sense of smell was stolen by the overwhelming musty scent. There was nothing to hear, but the drops of water and all there was to feel was the humidity and the borders surrounding them. Taste wasn't something they even wanted to consider. In short, Harry's preparation caught them senseless leaving only one premonition to save them. Instinct.

"You know," Susan said in an attempt to lighten the mood, "I'm beginning to regret how easily I accepted Harry's offer. This sucks." Nobody laughed. Not even she. With trepidation in her voice, Susan suggested they move on. Reluctantly they did, allowing the girl who made the suggestion to take the lead.

Their footsteps echoed as they walked, making a symphony with the water droplets and the outrageously loud silence. They held their wands in front of them with a lumos charm activated to guide the way. Their sense of sight was restored, but it meant nothing, for all their was to see was blank walls and darkness ahead.

One foot in front of the other, they walked, slowly gaining more comfortable as they progressed without trouble. Treasonous thoughts entered their head suggesting that there was no more traps ahead and Harry had been bluffing to test their resolve. Such thoughts rarely result in triumph.

A giant block of stone slammed down in front of them causing everyone to shriek, much to Neville's embarrassment; his pitch being as high as the girls. The air filled with dust that had been displaced by the slab, sending everyone into a coughing fit. Daphne was the first to recover, furious with herself for showing such emotion. She lowered her wand towards the stone to illuminate it, revealing words carved on its surface. She read them out loud.

 _By now I am sure that you thought I was bluffing and that the rest of your journey would be a walk in the meadows on a beautiful day. I must ask Susan to remember the tales that her aunt must have told her about one of the most legendary aurors to ever exist. 'Constant Vigilance' was his mantra I believe._

 _You all voluntarily walk forward into danger. That makes you better than most. But the dead don't get to feel pride. You must always be prepared for the unexpected. The dust that flies through the air right now could have been your head. Also, only one person needs to use the lumos spell. You guys aren't skilled enough to wield it and cast other spells yet._

Immediately, all of their heads whipped around, searching for the boy who had sent them on a dangerous quest for more knowledge. How had he known they were all using the lumos charm?

Puzzled upon individually finding there was no means of surveillance around them, they looked towards each other, hoping that someone found something they personally missed. One after another, a slow shake of their heads confirmed their lack of findings.

"Al-Alright," Neville stuttered. His confidence was way better than it had been on the first day of school; that he hadn't run away screaming yet or fainted was a good sign, but it still wasn't anywhere near the fearless Gryffindor he could become, "I-I guess we should take Harry's advice?" His statement came out as a question, a true indication of his self-doubt.

The group looked at each other and flicked their wands down, enveloping the surroundings in darkness.

As one they muttered their apologies and once again cast the lumos spell. Their faces, drowned in light, revealed their embarrassment over the awkward situation.

After a few seconds of figuring themselves out, it was decided that Neville would take point with the lumos charm while Susan and Daphne would flank, ready to take out any obstacles.

It was unfortunate that the one with the least confidence would need to take the lead and it would surely slow down their progress, but there was no doubting that at their current state, he was the least competent person in regards to countering Harry's traps.

Another few meters forward and Neville jumped back in fright, causing everyone to tumble over into a pile of limbs. They stayed there until Daphne, who was at the bottom of the pile, let out a terrifying growl that sent Neville's body flying to its feet. They all stood up and found the object of Neville's terror: a single arrow that was embedded into the tunnel wall. The dirt that still fell from beneath it revealed that it had only been recently fired.

Attached to it was a note. Susan flicked her want to cast a lumos charm and this time, she read it.

 _One more thing - while you can use a lumos to reveal what is in front of you, it is rarely sufficient. The only true guide is the one that creeps up your neck and nags in your head. Instinct has no replacement. Good luck!_

Scoring a new record for the most time breaking her poker face in one day, Daphne screamed in frustration. Silently, the remaining two shared her feelings. What the hell had they gotten themselves into?

 **AN: So here's the next chapter. Once again, I'm sorry it took so long, but the school year is coming to a close for me and life decided to say 'Screw your writing'. Who could say no to such a pleasantly stated request. Anyway, the tunnel scene sort of ran away with itself as the plan was to include Harry actually teaching them some survival tips this chapter in the Shrieking Shack. Oh well, there's always next chapter.**

 **Now, regarding my crossover fic idea. I believe the final vote ended in a tie so I had to think about what would be the best option. I desperately want to see my ideas written out, but I also realize that it is hard enough to capture the personalities of characters in one fandom. At the moment, I don't think I could do two. For that reason, I think that I will be posting a challenge with the basics of my idea and some guidelines. Anyone is welcome to write based on what is given, but I will be selecting one or two people who I think would do the best job and giving all of my current ideas to them as well as supporting them as they write with any ideas that might come up in the future.**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter and know that I am already working on the next!**

 **Update: The challenge has been written out in my bio. If you are interested in trying your hand at it please go check it out.**


	25. Chapter 25: The Conqueror's Lust

The trio of Susan, Neville, and Daphne took a few moments to collect themselves and to rid the feeling of panic that crawled on their bodies. Deep down they knew that Harry wouldn't hurt them- that the entire 'mission' was completely planned out and certainly not deadly, but on the surface the only thought that their mind could process was that of an arrow embedding itself within their head instead of the wall.

Eventually they moved forward, their hearts still lurching out of their chests to flee from perceived mortal peril. No words were exchanged, instead their focus was scattered with eyes darting everywhere to catch the next danger.

They didn't need to wait long as their formation once again found itself destroyed into a heap of limbs. This time a bar had swung from the wall and smashed into Neville's stomach. The boy wheezed on the ground as he desperately tried to retrieve the air stolen from his lungs.

While he held himself off the ground with his hands and knees, Daphne inspected the bar, her mind calculating as any good Slytherin's did. She searched for even the smallest of details that might limit the pain that was set ahead. Already she felt a bruise forming on her rear and that was something a girl of her stature ought never to have anywhere. Her skin was to lend the image of perfection to the Greengrass name; even that which couldn't be seen.

The bar was camouflaged and wore dirt as its final coat. Slowly the dirt melted off as the sticking charm applied to it canceled. A slick bar of steel remained. The bar offered no hints, something that frustrated Daphne to no end.

Still, she wasn't one of the top students in her year for no reason. She continued her investigation, knowing that Harry was only limiting himself on the damage he caused, not the skill behind it. The cause of the swinging bar wouldn't be obvious, there were few things more sure in the world than that.

Despite knowing that the trap must have had some sort of catalyst, Daphne's searches were for naught. There were no inscriptions on the walls or floors and she doubted that Harry used wards. They had no chance of dismantling wards, it was way beyond their skill level, and if her observations of Harry were any indication, he didn't seem like the type of guy to set impossible tasks. No, by the end of the tunnel, he expected them to have figured out his game, or at least to have countered it if they couldn't determine the specifics.

Looking back she saw Neville had regained his breath and rose to his feet. The boy stood besides Susan, both looking at her with a side profile.

Their side by side stature with unnatural stances for both to fit gave Daphne an idea. With the bar, the group didn't know what to look for. Now, she thought she had a clue.

Looking back into her memories, as soon as Harry had left, all of the traps they encountered had been blended in to be a part of their surroundings. The slab that fell from the roof had hardly looked out of place in a tunnel of dirt and stone and the arrow came from the wall, suggesting that it was there the whole time. Finally, the pipe had been colored to blend in perfectly with its surroundings. Yes, all of them were disguised well, but they were also noticeable if enough attention was paid to the task.

Digging deeper into those memories she took in her surroundings with more attention to the trap's origin. The slab hadn't been perfectly aligned with the roof, it was about a centimeter lower than its surroundings. The arrow's head wasn't entirely embedded, instead the slants towards the point were visible, leaving the arrow visible at its tip. It was difficult to see, but still perceivable.

The pipe had been covered with dirt to make it look like part of the cave wall, but the outwards curve ran opposite of the slick cylindrical walls. Perhaps Harry was limiting his skill after all.

Regardless, all of the traps were entirely avoidable if one only took the time to look. Swallowing her fear and her Slytherin instinct to let someone else take the blows for her, she explained her thoughts and announced her plan.

"I think I should take the lead. My skills in observation should help me spot traps now that I know what to look for," her body screamed that she shouldn't speak and when she did it begged for them to say no. It was only let down.

"Okay!" Susan said brightly, "You've got this." Her words had an enthusiasm, Daphne didn't feel herself, but she stuck true to her word and led them deeper into the tunnel.

She spotted the next trap shortly after taking the lead. The warning came from a small sparkle of light that almost blinded her, causing her to nearly stumble into the trap anyway. Daphne managed to stop herself just short and the remaining two took position behind her.

"There," she said, pointing to the roof. A small triangle of glass peaked out from the packed dirt and stone. Now that it had been spotted, all of them could make out a thin line running across the width of the roof. It was a perfect trap to allow a thin glass slide to block the tunnel before they could notice it.

"Nice spot," Susan claimed before adopting a look of serious thought. "So we know it's there, but how do we bypass it?"

"I think this one should be rather easy to avoid," Daphne responded. "From what he said earlier, Harry doesn't want us in serious danger. For that reason, we can assume that the glass isn't going to shatter, because a shard could easily find itself in the wrong place. More likely we are meant to just keep walking forwards without noticing it to face-plant into the sheet."

Susan, understanding Daphne's train of thoughts finished voicing the solution.

"He also wants us to reach the end of the tunnel, so the glass has to vanish eventually. Basically, if we take it one step at a time, until the glass falls, we should be fine."

Daphne nodded at the Hufflepuff's conclusion and slowly put one foot in front of the other, making sure that none of the rest of her body took the lead.

As expected, the glass slammed down, causing the rest of them to flinch, despite already knowing what would happen.

For a while, the trio waited for the glass to disappear to allow them to pass. It didn't.

"Ok…" Susan muttered, "So now what?"

They all stood in silent befuddlement, until Neville finally spoke up.

"Uh, guys. I mean… er… girls… ladies… yea. Was that hole there before?" Halted from correcting his awkward rambling, Daphne looked to where Neville's eyes pointed.

"This is a joke right?" She mumbled in disbelief. It wasn't.

The glass remained as pure as ever except for a small hole at the base. It was only just big enough for a body to fit through and she knew that Harry expected them to crawl in the dirt to progress.

'Potter… we'll be having words after this,' she thought, imagining a scene much more violent than a simple exchange of words.

While she grumbled in her mind and imagined scenes of Harry receiving his dues, each more brutal than the next, Neville managed to muster his underlying Gryffindor courage and dropped to the ground. In an awkward wiggle combined with an army crawl, he made his way through the gap and stood up. His sigh of relief broke Daphne out of her thoughts.

Taking in the sight, she allowed her temper to take over again, making a small problem much larger than it out to be. "YOU IDIOT!" she yelled at the boy causing him to shrink backwards in fear. "THE PLAN WAS FOR ME TO TAKE THE LEAD TO LOOK FOR TRAPS. NOW HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT WITH YOUR FAT ARSE IN THE WAY, YOU FAILURE?!"

Tears began to stream down Neville's face at his scolding. The one time he had mustered the smallest bit of confidence, taking the initiative as his friends had encouraged him to do, he ruined everything. He sank against the walls in a hunch and covered his ears to deafen the taunts of failure that rung through them. It didn't work.

Susan was far from pleased with Daphne's admonishment. "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU ICE QUEEN BITCH. IF YOU HADN'T BEEN SO BOTHERED BEING MS. PRIM AND PROPER, WE WOULD HAVE ALREADY BEEN THROUGH THIS OBSTACLE. HELL, YOU CALL HIM THE FAILURE! YOU'RE ONE JOB WAS TO SPOT THE DETAILS AND YOU COULDN'T SEE A BLOODY HOLE IN THE GLASS!"

Daphne, having never been so called out in her life exploded with anger. " **NO YOU SHUT UP YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF TRASH. YOU HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING THIS ENTIRE JOURNEY HAVE YOU. EVERYONE KNOWS THAT THE 'MORAL SUPPORT' ROLE IS ONLY GIVEN TO THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER.** " She paused in her rant and went for the blow that would hurt a Hufflepuff the most.

" _Huh,_ " she chuckled with the devil's tone. " _What a_ perfect _role for a Hufflepuff nobody._ " It was a two fold insult. Firstly it insulted the Hufflepuff house, her tone suggesting that the house was already full of nobodies. Then she called Susan the nobody amongst nobodies. It was the worst insult to give to a house that valued friendship and hard work.

Susan's eyes widened at the sudden escalation in the argument. " **OH, YOU THINK MY HOUSE IS FULL OF NOBODIES? I'M SURE SLYTHERIN IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE HOUSE OF GREATNESS?** " Daphne turned up her nose, clearly showing her belief in just that. " **HAH! THE REASON EVERYONE HATES SLYTHERIN IS BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW YOU'RE WORTH NOTHING EXCEPT BEING SERVANTS TO DARK LORDS OR WHORES IN KNOCKTURN ALLEY."**

As she said that Susan's eyes widened. Calling somebody worthless was one thing, but saying somebody was only good for being a servant or a whore was a bit too far. Especially for the typically friendly girl.

Realizing that their tempers had caused them to outlash with cruel words that they didn't truly mean, she opened her mouth to apologize, but it was too late as her words were prevented by a hex sent by Daphne. Angry boils rippled into resistance across her face, every one more red and irritating that the next.

The satisfied smirk across Daphne's face exiled Susan's common sense and the girl longed for nothing more than to hex the girl right back- to show Daphne that she wasn't anywhere near as perfect as she thought. So she did. Pulling upon the small amount of training offered by her aunt before she went to Hogwarts, Susan retaliated. A short, concentrated burst of 'aguamenti' left her wand and shot into Daphne's eyes, bruising the surrounding area as the girl barely shut the lid in time.

A growl escaped Daphne's throat and she began casting hexes and curses as fast as she could. Susan took up her challenge and soon a full blown fight erupted between them.

Explicits and insults were traded as often as spells were, both combatants aiming to ruin their opponent in both body and mind. Neither would give up, though deep down both knew they should.

On the other side of the seemingly unbreakable glass, Neville's tears seemed to flow harder as the voices in his head grew louder. The shouts of insults and spells exchanged between Susan and Daphne began to join in, swirling around and tearing shreds of his heart. If the strong could call one another worthless, what exactly was he?

His feelings would separate and collide at rapid speeds, like ever bouncing bouncy balls ricocheting off the walls of a small room. Slowly, both the balls and the walls would show signs of wear and tear before one of them broke. The walls were his psyche and the balls his turmoil. At that moment in time, the balls were too strong and the wall broke.

Pure magic exploded from Neville's body sending ripples of shock among the tunnel. If it weren't for the strongly applied reinforcement charms, wards, and runes to maintain the tunnel's integrity, it surely would have collapsed. As it was, chunks of stone and earth still ripped themselves apart and cluttered to the ground.

The intentionally weak unbreaking charm that Harry applied to the mirror absolutely collapsed under the pressure of Neville's emotional outburst. The glass shattered and shards were flung out away from the explosion of energy towards Susan and Daphne who found themselves flying in the same direction the smallest moment after words.

At the origin Neville still rocked back and forth with arms enveloping his knees. His eyes still shed rivers and his mouth still gave whimpers. From a distance he looked the same as he had before the magical outburst. If one were to take a closer look, they would find a different story, for his eyes were blank, all feeling of self and pride, stolen from their gaze.

Several meters away, both girls were physically stunned, the sudden impact against a wall or floor sending their body into reboot mode.

Daphne's body was littered with small cuts, her clothes shredded in various spots and stained red from small gashes in her skin. Her left eye wore a bruise from Susan's first retaliation and her cheeks were puffy, making her look like a chipmunk with too many nuts. A lump was beginning to form on the back of her head from the impact of landing after being flung down the tunnel.

Slightly further down the tunnel, Susan's state was worse. She shared the gashes from glass and the lump on her head, but she also had a larger piece of glass embedded in her shoulder. From a combination of a sticking charm by Daphne on her shoe and the shockwave sent out by Neville, her right hip was dislocated when her body wanted to go one way, but her leg wanted to stay. A ruined trainer could be found where she once stood and dueled.

The boils were still littered across her face, though a few had ruptured, sending pus leaking down to drip off of her chin and onto her chest. Her other leg had a deep cut from a 'diffindo' Daphne had cast upon it. That was the last spell before their fight was interrupted. Her hair clung to her head from a far less refined 'aguamenti' that Daphne had cast in retaliation and her mouth was bleeding from the oversized teeth within.

While Daphne was able to collect herself and stand up, the pain and damage proved to be too much for Susan and she fell unconscious.

Looking down at the girl's limp form, the final strands of Daphne's logical side broke and made way for something far more dangerous: insanity. Daphne sneered and hissed out, "Weakling," before making her way down the tunnel. The other two were clearly too weak and immature if they couldn't handle a few insults and curses. They had no potential and as such didn't deserve to be trained. The weak would stay weak and the strong would grow stronger, that was how she was raised.

She walked back down the tunnel at a more sedated pace. She had nothing to prove to Harry when put amongst such weaklings. He could wait until she felt it was the right time to grace him with her presence.

In her state of insanity, her typical nature and feelings were cast away in favor of a feeling of conquering and victory.

'In the end, the ones who aren't afraid to be left handed are the ones who win. After all, it didn't matter if one was right, so long as they were the ones who were left,' she convinced herself, with a wicked smile across her bloodied face.

Her march forwards was only paused for a moment to spare another sneer for the Longbottom heir. He was such a waste of time and resources and a shame to the Longbottom name. Honestly, he should just hurry up and forfeit all his resources and pride to someone more worthy; someone like her.

A kick was thrown at Neville who barely reacted, one more whimper to join the rest was hardly noticeable. With confidence she continued down the tunnel dismantling all traps before her.

A knight of stone emerging from a crevice? All that was needed was a flick of her wand and the knight found itself beheaded.

A wire set to make her trip? She just stepped over it elegantly, as it wasn't worth her time.

A gust of wind sent down from the ceiling wouldn't halt her. A boulder rolling towards her with no way around was nothing short of pathetic, she would just cut her way through.

She stopped and let a strangely shaped red glove fly in front of her nose. Honestly, how muggle - it was nothing, but cotton before a lady like her.

Trap after trap was avoided or dismantled, Daphne taking the appearance of an elegant, sociopathic beast that couldn't be controlled.

Her smile gained a greater upward curl on one end as she relished in her glory. 'I don't need training, especially from someone who set such pathetic traps. I'll reach the end of this tunnel and show him his place.'

The bloodlust of conquering had long since overtaken her and was manipulating her very being. It enhanced her senses and allowed her to reach deep into her magical power, allowing potency and endurance she hadn't enjoyed access to before.

She reached the end of the tunnel and found a staircase leading up into an old, abandoned home. At the top stair she found Harry and their eyes met.

-=IDAFT=-

Harry could see an uncontrolled craze in her eyes and took note of the fact that she seemed to be alone.

"Daphne," he started with trepidation, "Where are Neville and Susan?" he asked, but he already knew the answer.

"They couldn't bring themselves up to the skill required to bypass your traps," she began sweetly, "so I had to leave them behind."

Daphne walked into the room where Harry stood and began to pace back and forth without a care in the world.

"It's a shame," she continued, "that they couldn't make it. With your approval I put aside my reservations on them and let them join me in the tunnel. But they were so… WEAK!" The facade fell and now she wore the face of a powerful being, one who thought they were meant to rule.

"You let them join you?" Harry asked, carefully maneuvering himself to where he knew Twinky was observing. Behind his back he began using the 'flagrate' spell to write out orders flaming letter by flaminging letter for Twinky to follow. With his wand occupied with spelling, he stalled for time. "I do believe that this whole get together was my idea, not yours. Their participation was hardly up to you."

Daphne paused her pacing and spun to face Harry. "If you were as strong as I had hoped, then perhaps I would agree that everyone's presence was up to you, but those traps… they were nothing short of pathetic… just like you."

Her wand raised to point at him at her declaration, clearly ready to prove her dominance. Harry wasn't quite finished giving his orders, so he gave his own monologue, knowing that a person in Daphne's current condition could hardly resist listening to a 'hero's final words'.

"It is a shame," he began in a whisper that carried through the shack, "that you believe me to be so pathetic. I mean, perhaps it's true, I am well aware that I am not the strongest magic wielder to date, or even among those currently inhabiting our planet."

Daphne smirked at that, preparing herself to give a grand speech of her pleasure over his acknowledgement of her superiority. Her smirk turned to fury when he continued.

"Granted, I am far more gifted in the ways of power and skill than you," he said. Harry hated the way he sounded. He hated to voice such thoughts of superiority over others. He hated to even think them. But at that moment it was necessary.

"Still, I clearly do have much to learn. Things didn't go down the way I thought they would in that tunnel. I had hoped you would all work together to find a way to the end, but I guess I expected to much."

"Obviously," Daphne smirked, "They were only holding me back. In fact-"

"Might I hazard a guess as to what happened?" He cut her off much to his fury and proceeded to ignore her snarl of refusal when he voiced his guess anyway.

"If I had to guess, somebody did something another person didn't like and a fight broke out. Hmm… let's see… Neville hasn't quite yet grown into himself, but Susan does have a temper buried within her. I also believe Susan is the type of person who only takes the initiative when she sees no other choice. She definitely would have asked for everyone's opinion before making a move, so she couldn't be the one who made the 'mistake'. She also wouldn't be the one to grow angry over a minor mistake either… no…"

Harry paused and tapped a finger to his chin with his non-wand hand, putting together his thoughts.

"Ah! I see," he pronounced. "Neville decided to take the initiative for once and you disagreed. Susan tried to defend him and the situation escalated until everything had fallen to pieces. Am I right?"

Daphne's lack of response other than a deepened scowl confirmed his theory. A final flick of his wand finished his orders and Twinky popped away to follow her orders.

 _'Find Neville & Susan. Bring back to trunk. Begin Healing. When u get chance lock Sirius' door. Go.' _

That was what Harry told her to do and Twinky would not fail her master.

With his writing finished, Harry brought his wand from behind him and casually held it at his side. He began the final bit of his speech, the last words before a fight that would almost certainly hurt his ally.

"It is a shame that your inability to work with others led you down such a path, though unavoidable I suppose. Some people are simply more prone to the disease than others."

Her lips pulled back in a snarl, Daphne spoke defiantly. "I have no disease," she claimed, "I am above such things!" the girl declared.

While she spoke, Harry sent a message to Faolan. When he saw Daphne arrive alone and noticed the look in her eye, he knew that things wouldn't happen as planned.

To save that plan to use for a later date, he sent a subtle full-body bind and a notice-me-not charm on his godfather who lurked in the shadows. Knowing the man he would try to come to Harry's 'rescue' and with Daphne's current state, that rescue would jeopardize Sirius' safety from the ministry.

To completely remove Sirius from the current equation Harry made a request of Faolan.

 _"Faolan, no time for play. I need you to come to me and find Sirius who is hidden in the shadows. Take him to his room and, in the event that he breaks through the full-body bind, make sure he doesn't even bother attempting to leave."_

A moment passed with no reply and Harry noticed that Daphne was finished speaking. Reviewing what she said with Occlumency, he responded.

"Well, that's half right, I guess," he nodded his head in acknowledgement. " _The Conqueror's Lust_ isn't classified as a disease, though I think it is in the same way evil is one. That being said, I must say that you seem to really think yourself above all else, when it is those who do not know where they stand that fall prey to the lust more easily."

He stopped and sighed, meeting her eyes with his own, apologetic ones. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize. You, who are bound by expectations, have dreams of your own and a position you wish to take, but are plagued by the belief that you will never have a chance. That society will always keep you stagnant where you are. You came to me in search for help, didn't you? I'm truly sorry I failed."

"I DON'T NEED HELP FROM YOU!" she screamed, tears on her face, bearing a resemblance to the Egyption river whose name described her state. "YOU ARE BENEATH ME! SOCIETY IS BENEATH ME! NOTHING CAN HOLD _ME_ STAGNANT!"

Sorrow covered Harry's features as he slowly sunk into a fighting position. Before he could speak to her, Faolan responded.

 _"We can play later, though, right?"_

 _"What the fuck Faolan? Now isn't the time. Get Sirius out of here before it's too late."_

 _"Oh relax! He's already gone. Might have a nasty bump on his head from how I dropped him, though. So, about that playing later… I was thinking that ball has been feeling too safe recently… you know, the one with the star, so-"_

 _"FAOLAN! NOT. THE. TIME. We'll talk later."_

 _"Fine… but I want that ball."_

Daphne stared at him furiously, steam falling just short of flying out of her ears.

"YOU DARE IGNORE _ME_?" she roared in fury. Down in hogsmeade, the inhabitants only heard echoes and shivers ran down their spine over the seeming revival of the spirits in the shack.

Harry rolled his neck, now comfortably settled and ready for the inevitable fight. "I would never ignore Daphne Greengrass. Her insight is always appreciated. But you are not her. Not really. A part of her, perhaps, but not her. You are her mirror, what she would be if she let go of her emotionless front and released everything she bottles up to the world in anger.

Like all before, you have changed under the effects of _The Conqueror's Lust._ While you became your opposite, Voldemort lost his charisma and intelligence and gained overwhelming fury. Grindelwald's traits were all enhanced while what compassion he once had widdle away. The lust gives you power, it amplifies your traits. It also steals what makes you, _you_.

People like Voldemort and Grindelwald couldn't escape the lust, they had no one who understood them and supported them. That doesn't have to be the case for you. My grandfather Charlus was freed from the lust when my grandmother and his brother knocked some sense into him during the war with Grindelwald. It is said that Arthur was brought from his lust by Merlin's calm council in the ancient days. You are not lost. There is hope."

His words meant nothing at the moment. He knew that for now he spoke in vain. But if… no, _when_ she snapped out of it, his words would echo through her head and offer hope in the pits of regret.

"This is not you, but I am nowhere near as wise or soothing as Merlin. I am sorry, but I must free you the hard way, like my grandmother and great uncle before me. I do hope you'll forgive me."

Harry launched a spell and the battle began.

 **AN: I'll be honest, I'm not really happy with this chapter. It came out of left field and really didn't go in a direction where I wanted the training to go. Regardless, when I first started this a month ago, this is what came out. About a week later I decided I wanted to redo it, but my cat got really sick and that took up my time. Turns out he had cancer and I had to make the decision to put him down. A week after that I had a vacation that had been planned for over a year to go on and... well long story short, I just haven't felt up to rewriting an entire chapter. So sorry, but this is what you get.**

 **Anyway, I'm saddened to see that no one has taken up my challenge yet on the Harry Potter/Avengers crossover. Once again, I will ask that if you are a writer who is interested and willing to see the challenge all the way through that you go and check out my bio where the challenge is described. Thank you!**


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